Dragonwind
by AnnEllspethRaven
Summary: This is the second edition of my story, originally published on AO3. It is part of a larger series, "Adonnenniel." This highly developed tale relates the restoration of Thranduil's lost wife to his side. After years of bitterness, he repents of what he has become and seeks redemption. He and his wife are both broken people, struggling to heal one another. No GiME, no Mary Sue :-)
1. Dragonwind-Arrival

_Why do I bother with this fucking place, why do I bother with any of it?_ Nenni had always known the farm would be too much to manage on her own. It had been four months since the Highway Patrol came to the door, telling her that Michael had been killed in a car accident on the Interstate. He had finished delivering the week's supply of produce to all the customers, and they were to have gone to see a movie that afternoon. And then, some drunken asshole crossed the highway median and took Michael out, head on. Eyewitnesses said, he'd had no chance to avoid what happened.

They had been enjoying the last year, so very much. Finally they had paid off the credit cards, had started to be able to save, and were even making plans for a big trip to London in a few more years. Mum and dad, who had been trying at the best of times, had passed on after their long illnesses. Nenni and Michael were finally free to care only for themselves. Their little farming business, that they'd worked so hard to build up, had been shifted from ongoing toil to a pleasant hobby. The purchase of the new garden tractor, two years back, reduced their work even more. Nenni loved tending her fruit trees and vegetable gardens, which gave them endless streams of delicious food and plenty to sell. Michael especially had loved the antics of the large flock of chickens that filled the refrigerators with eggs, and the hordes of peafowl that made living yard art wherever they strutted and preened. After decades of debt and struggle, it finally seemed like they might be able to enjoy what they'd worked for. _Ah, nope._

Nenni's early years had been less than pleasant, marked by an unusually difficult family life. Her family had been unstable and dysfunctional in ways that most others found difficult to understand, and it left her in a perpetual state of struggle. Her existence was both a war against her internal despair as well as an uphill climb toward anything she wished to achieve. Much was a fight against naysayers and opposition, usually in the form of the very people on whom she should have been able to rely for encouragement and support. And the sad thing was, Nenni wasn't a bad person; quite the opposite.

As an adult she made efforts to to feel better, and sought help when her state of mind became unbearable. But no matter how much effort was invested, the damage always reached up and dragged her back down the hole. She wanted her life to be about finding something meaningful, doing something to make the world a better place. Michael had been the one good constant in her life, and she keenly felt the guilt of almost making a wreck of that as well.

 _To hell with all of it_ , she thought. With Michael gone, she did what she'd done all her life when things went to shite, in between the forms, phone calls, and every other unwelcome intrusion the real world had to offer. She escaped into her favorite books and films. Harry Potter, Twilight, the Dragonriders of Pern, anything by JRR Tolkien. She was really a geek, about the last item on that list. There was profound comfort to be had, in the stories of people who struggled and found their happiness in the end. _In any place that wasn't Here._

It was another freakishly miserable summer day; a relatively cool one, at "only" 95 degrees Fahrenheit. How she hated summer weather, the endless burning heat and the cloying dust covering everything. Sure it was good for the tomatoes, eggplants and peaches, but nothing else liked it much. Including Nenni. Around midday the wind had kicked up out of nowhere, and the weather app had said nothing about it. _Dammit if it isn't getting even hotter...just more money to run the air conditioner_ , she thought with disgust. She'd been getting ready to knock off for awhile, too, since in summer the only time she could stand to work was early morning and close to sundown. Michael never minded; he'd be out there working through the hot afternoons. Nenni never understood how he could manage, in the blazing sun.

Another huge gust blew through, one that screamed in the trees. _Shit._ She wasn't ready for this, nothing was tied down, or secured for a big wind. Electricity seemed to crackle in the air. Beren, her stunning brindle hound dog, accompanied her for a quick look around. _Holy Christ, where was this coming from?_ At this rate, the chickens would blow away south to the neighbors' farm. Wind was nothing new in Acalou county, but this was nuts even by local standards, and it was the wrong time of year. The winds happened worst in spring and fall, and this was mid-August. There were going to be no disgustingly sweaty clothes today...the dirty jeans, t shirt and torn long-sleeved cotton overshirt she habitually wore to keep sun off her fair skin were already dry as a bone. Beren ran out, over to the small grove of century old almond trees, baying like he'd just treed a raccoon.

Those trees should have been removed years ago when they'd first moved here, but she couldn't do it. They were giants, still on their own roots, relics of the first almonds to have ever been planted in this part of California. She had to get Beren out of there. Nenni always made a point to never be near the big almonds in a windstorm. _Leave it to him, to go Hound Dog at a time like this._ She'd come outside after past storms to find huge shattered branches, each weighing hundreds of pounds, that had been weak or diseased. They could fall like boulders and constituted a real safety risk, but still she couldn't cut them down. The first day Nenni ever saw them, she thought they looked like the most beautiful trees in the world, because they were on their own little place in the country. And they were survivors, some of the last of their kind. Two weeks after their moving day they bloomed, and she fell in love with the crowns of pink blossoms buzzing with honeybees.

"Beren, come! Come here! Beren, dammit, I SAID COME HERE!"

Nenni ran over to drag him back inside, wondering what in hell was making him act this way. She grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled, and he resisted with all eighty pounds of solid muscle. Shouting louder, in desperation, "Goddammit Beren, we..."

With the noise of a crashing explosion, a mass of splintering wood crushed her to the ground.

Her first conscious thought was, _goddamn dog is still barking. Baying. Whatever._ To live with a hound dog, is to understand that they have a language. A vocabulary, even. Each one of those dozens of noises means something, and they usually have a lot to say...something had Beren's interest, but not the same something as before. He was hunting, and chasing it into the distance. She cracked her eyes open, blinking to focus. Soil, and mouldering leaves...the smell told her something was wrong, even before her eyes could adequately focus. This wasn't her soil. The smell was damp with decay, not the dry scent of grasses. Was she hearing a huge commotion? There was another set of noises, besides the racket Beren was making. _It might be wise to get out of here_ , she considered. _Or not._

Two small twitches, by way of an attempt to move, left her realizing she'd been hurt, but good. Once, she'd broken a bone in her back, and was pretty sure this was beyond that. Many voices moved closer, and she couldn't understand them. Nenni knew smatterings of quite a few languages, but this speech didn't register. It crossed her mind to panic, but even that would hurt too much. She felt hands on her, lifting her from the ground, and screamed from the agony of being moved. Darkness took her.

Feeling beyond ill, she returned to consciousness... and entertained possibility that she dying. Medical stuff never freaked her out; that was what her mum and dad always did. Freak out. She could mention to them she had a sore throat, and they'd act like she'd just announced terminal cancer. Medicine was so interesting, and she'd learned to be dispassionate about illness and injury long ago...it had served her well. Nenni was a damn good emergency medical tech, able to think clearly and quickly how best to help people. Which was why she was reasonably certain that something was seriously unwell, inside of her. She gave even odds that her blood pressure was in the dumpster, among other problems. Nenni forced her grey eyes open, to see exquisite blue ones staring back at her, out of a pale face. Darkness returned.

Many hours later, Nenni awoke fully, still gripped by pain. She slowly turned her head enough to see heavy bars of surprisingly intricacy across a stone doorway. _Where in absolute hell am I, a jail cell?_ _Dungeon?_ She chuckled to herself. _Do_ _they think I'm going to run off and leave them, in this condition?_ _Whoever "they" even are...who on earth has a dungeon?_ _This is right up there with the scene in the basement of Malfoy Manor, where Luna Lovegood and Mr. Ollivander were imprisoned_ , she thought, _except I am fairly certain that this is not Malfoy Manor._

The ability to worry about any of this was subsumed by the near certainty that she was dreaming. Her hands told her she was lying on a bed of some kind; it was not uncomfortable. Gathering her thoughts, she gave herself the whispered pep talk: "It's time to try an exam, Nenni, you've got to assess what's working and what's not." Christ. She felt so weary. Physical pain of all sorts had been an unwelcome constant of her life, icing on the cake of all the emotional pain she'd suffered as well. Even when she was a little girl, she had migraines so bad she'd wished she could bang her head through the wall to stop the throbbing. _Sigh._

 _Nenni, focus_ , she commanded herself. First the hands, wrist, elbows, arms. They seemed OK bones-wise, but it felt like there were cuts or other skin injuries. Deep cuts, too, from the dull ache of them. She carefully flexed and tensed toes, feet, lower legs _OH SHIT_ as pain tore through her right leg. Ankle? Tib/fib? Strike one. Very carefully, she slightly moved her neck in the opposite direction, then tensed the muscles down the length of her spine. They seemed intact enough, but a racking, dull pain somewhere on her back announced itself..so the jury was still out on that. Maybe cracked ribs? But, she was not struggling to breathe, at least. She tried turning her head in each direction, this time with a fuller range of motion, then tested raising her head just a little. It seemed safe to try to sit up, which she did very slowly. A snail would have beat her to the side of the bed. Some minutes after, she had managed to sit on the edge. Her head felt a little dizzy, and even this small effort left her winded.

 _And where was Beren?_ That thought brought the first real lurch to her stomach...her dog was one of the few things she still had left to love in this life. He was a shithead half the time to be sure, but he was _her_ shithead.

A figure appeared in front the bars, so if this was a jail or a dungeon, that person must presumably be a guard. "I have orders that you are to be brought before the King, immediately", a man intoned, choosing a skeleton key from a large ring, and unlocking the bars. It was impossible not to notice that he was dressed very unusually, wearing clothing reminiscent of the Middle Ages.

 _King?_ She hadn't expected that...had she gone back in time, to someplace they still had kings and dungeons?

"Please, where am I? What happened to me?" Nenni asked.

"No one may speak with you save the King" he replied, with a fleeting look of sympathy. He opened the door and entered, holding a pair of shackles.

She looked up quizzically at him and asked: "What have I done wrong?"

He shook his head slightly and said, "It is our law. Do not resist."

Seeing little choice in the matter, she held out her hands. The steel closed around her wrists, though he took care to be gentle around the deep cuts. "Can I at least ask your name?", she asked, politely.

He glanced behind him to check no one was near, and softly replied "I am called Anthilen."

"Thank you Anthilen, I am Nenni", she whispered in return.

"You must follow me," Anthilen said.

A wave of anxiety passed over her, and she quickly spoke: "Please, something is wrong with one of my legs. I can't walk."

Anthilen called out the cell door for a second guard, giving her a stern look of warning that translated clearly enough as, _it would be wise not to betray his moment of friendliness._ Anthilen and the other guard held her up by her elbows, and more or less whisked her down a long pathway in a ...was this a cavern?

She'd never seen the like. It hurt like hell to be moved, in spite of their efforts not to jostle her too much. Bewilderment mixed in with wonder, because wherever this was, everything about it was drop dead gorgeous. The cathedrals she'd seen in Europe had nothing on the size and artistry she now beheld. A soft glow from hidden light sources spilled across polished rock carved into intricate designs that paid homage to the natural world. Shafts of sunlight dappled along various columns and buttresses supporting the living stone overhead. _If this is Hell_ , she thought, _it can't be so bad after all_...but she hoped they had painkillers in Hell.

They brought her along winding, elevated paths, to the King. Raised at the top of a small stone stairway, the King sat languidly upon his throne, the high back of which was crowned with tremendous antlers. Nenni looked on in awe, imagining the mighty animal from whom these came. These antlers were the like of which she'd only ever seen once, in the natural history museum in Vienna. _Were there Irish elks here?_ she wondered. She couldn't wonder much, as it was taking most of her waning strength to balance as the guards left her standing on her good leg.

Her eyes descended from the antlers to the King. His appearance was arresting and incredibly intimidating. He wore rich fabrics that trailed the floor. Long, straight, white-blond hair framed a pale and youthful face, the central feature of which were striking dark eyebrows over ice blue eyes. He wore a crown of what appeared to be living wood, it had actual green leaves growing out of it. _How could that be?_... _typical Nenni, in a mess and all I can think about are the mysteries of botany._

"Do you not know to kneel before a King?" he said imperiously in a sonorous voice, and with thinly veiled anger. Once, such provocative words surely would have enraged her. She'd long since gained mastery over uncontrolled anger, and remained calm. Besides, she still wasn't even sure any of this was real.

Her knees began to bend, while she tried to work out how to lower herself without the free use of her hands. She settled on taking her weight fully on her slowly collapsing left leg, until she could tip sideways to favor her right leg. Then, in theory, she could salvage whatever went wrong from the floor. It was beyond awkward, and the injured right leg paid her back with torment she tried so very hard to hide, but she made it. On her knees before him, she replied softly but clearly, with eyes cast down, "Pardon me, my Lord, in my country we have no kings. I did not know. I meant no disrespect."

His eyes narrowed. "You have no kings, but you know to address me as 'my Lord'?"

 _Clearly, he paid attention to detail._ "Other countries do have kings, my Lord, and I have read about them..." _Nenni, Just. Shut. Up. This is hardly a good time._

He rose up and strode down the steps, to circle her slowly. She saw, as the hem of his garments trailed past her, that his robes were made of very fine fabric.

"Why you were trespassing upon my lands? The penalty for entering my realm uninvited is death."

Her eyes opened wide as she looked up at him, surprised to feel no fear, and quite transfixed at his physical perfection. She had never seen someone so ethereal. He turned to reveal that his right hand held a blade; a long one-handed sword of exquisite craftsmanship. Nenni loved to visit museums that had collections of arms and armor, and didn't recognize the shape or style at all. _What could she say?_ With pain flooding too many nerves, a quick execution hardly seemed like the worst outcome to this shitty day. Breathing deeply in and out, she paused before answering. "I do not know where I am, my Lord, nor how I came to be here. My last memory is of being outdoors, at my home. There was a searing hot wind unlike anything, and..." Her deadening eyes were forced to meet his cold gaze, by some reserve of inner strength. To herself she felt hollowed out, deadened from all emotion. "Pardon me, for trespassing...here. Please. I ask of you, to spare my life." _Am I sure?_ His judgement would end a lifetime of assorted miseries. _Does he see that half of me hopes he uses his sword?_

"Then where are you from?", he demanded, as he ignored her.

"I am from northern California, my Lord, a small rural town called Talein. It is not too far from San Francisco." His expression was unreadable.

"These-what are these? They were taken from your clothing by my guards." She glanced at the ornate plate to which he gestured and felt the faintest inner smile.

"Those are almonds, my Lord, from my farm." "

"What are almonds?"

"They are a nut, my Lord, a food. The part that is eaten is inside the shell. They are also the seeds of the tree." She'd picked up some of them up that morning, under the old IXL, with its beautiful, twisting trunk.

The King continued to stare, at the almonds, at Nenni, weighing each in his thoughts. "What are you called?" he demanded.

"Nenni, my Lord." Why did his eyes suddenly flare, had she said something wrong?

After a moment he spoke: "I will grant what you ask, but there is a price. In exchange for your life you will vow to remain here, in subjection and fealty to me, and to the laws of this Realm. Do you accept?"

Her lips parted. _To live, she had to give up her freedom?_ Something inside of her sank under a crushing weight. But she did not truly want to die so, there was not much else for it. There was no choice being given, here...and the part of her that had always soldiered on, would probably do so again. She took one last sigh, as a free person. _If you could call being shackled on the floor "free." Ok, not really. Nenni, Just. Shut. Up._

She raised her head slowly to look at him and answered: "Yes, my Lord, I accept. I give you my word." How strange that sounded, rolling off her American tongue!

A faint trace of satisfaction flitted across his face. "I am Thranduil, your King. Rise."

 _And how is that going to happen? Getting down here was hard enough, in case he hadn't noticed._ He didn't seem the sort that was open to discussion, so she tried to get up onto her left leg...only to lose balance and crash right back down to the floor again. A cry of pain escaped her lips as the color drained from her face.

The King rushed to lift her up, as though she weighed nothing at all. He delivered her into the arms of a guard, to whom he gave instructions. She was carried through several passages to a large, well-lit room that smelled sweetly of an array of herbs, and had many beds. All of them stood empty, at the moment. She was lowered down onto a soft, elevated surface, and propped up on what she supposed was a treatment table. Though, there was nothing clinical about this place. Clean fabrics in shades of greens and russets covered pillows and mattresses. Tables of pale, carved wood could be moved as needed. The room looked scrupulously clean and bright...unlike her. With some embarrassment, Nenni realized how awful she must look. A small flask of liquid was pressed into her hand by a kindly looking woman. "Drink all of this, it will help relieve the pain", she directed.

 _Why not,_ Nenni thought... _if they are_ _poisoning me, it could only improve the situation._

She complied, and found the taste neither pleasing nor repugnant... indescribable, really, but that was a good word for most herbal remedies. _Where in hell was she?_ _And...he said King Thranduil, didn't he? As in, The Hobbit, King Thranduil?_ She weighed whether she having a full-on psychotic episode...a break from reality. But it began to dawn on her that she was surrounded by people of unusual personal beauty. Tall and slender, all with impeccably kept long hair. _They. Had. Pointed. Ears. Were they...elves?_ Her eyes grew as large as dinner plates.

 _Things like this can't happen, it's impossible. Sure as hell, I'm going to wake up in a room with padded walls_...she tried to remember her psychiatric evaluation training, but it was becoming much harder to focus as whatever she had swallowed took hold of her. Busy hands were cutting away the wreckage of her ruined clothing. The medicine seemed to be helping, because the moving of her limbs didn't hurt as bad as it ought to have. One elf lady left, to return with warm water. Nenni watched with detachment, as they worked to soak off the pieces of fabric that had glued themselves to the deeper cuts. _Good work_ , she thought. _These folks would make fine medical techs._

 _How long had she been here before waking?_ she idly wondered, as they expertly moved her body to assess her injuries. Thankfully, that included discreetly covering the parts of her she'd rather not have be on display. It had always made her feel bad, having to cut off people's clothes; it was a terrible invasion of privacy when they were already having the worst sort of day. Their eyes widened in surprise, at seeing the extensive tattoo of flowers and vines that her ragged clothes had hidden. Nenni smiled back at them. She loved her artwork. Just as quickly, they draped cloth over her bare skin.

And then, He came in. The room fell silent, as the others made room for him. "You require healing. Lie still," the King commanded. A bowl of steaming water was brought to him, into which he crushed a fair quantity of a plant she didn't recognize. A smell of clean rain and blossoms filled the room, and a sense of well-being difficult to put into words descended over her. It was calming, but did not feel like a drug. He laid his perfect hands on her ankle and began to speak. If she understood correctly, he asked the Valar for his grace to be passed on to her, as he touched and bathed every injury large and small. From time to time, he would look deeply into her eyes, commanding her not to move or blink. It was difficult to obey, because his gaze was daunting and difficult to bear, but obey she did; she had given her word for this and much more. _This simply could not be happening._

As the minutes wore on, she found herself reflecting on one central consideration. _Whatever I've landed myself in, it can hardly be worse than the life I left behind_. King Thranduil tended every cut, splinter, puncture, bruise and broken bone that the healers had found. As her pain abated, she felt considerable gratitude toward him. Her breathing begin to ease. Her mind was drawing to a standstill as she watched him in fascination, saying nothing. She thought she remembered reading, don't speak to kings or queens unless first spoken to. When he was satisfied with his work, he rose and gently tilted her chin to look up at him one last time, and laid his other hand on the side of her head. His eyes were softer now, very different than earlier. An overwhelming need to sleep pulled at her, and she found herself unable to resist leaning her cheek into his hand. She blinked at him, still fighting the losing battle to remain awake. "Rest now," he said. "We will speak again later."


	2. Dragonwind-Discovery

[Iavas 23-48, Imladris reckoning. August 23-Sept 19, Gregorian]

Chapter Text

Nenni snapped wide awake, calling "Beren? Where is Beren?"

She'd been moved, and found herself in a small and pleasant chamber, lying on a very comfortable bed.

A smiling elf lady with dark hair stood up to attend her. "Beren?" she asked, with a puzzled look.

"My dog, ma'am, is he OK?..." The words caught in her throat.

"He is well, and being cared for. If I may ask, why is a dog named after a great hero of our world?"

 _Uh-oh._ "It is not meant to cause offense. Where I am from...your world and its people are in a story, tales in books loved by many. I am struggling considerably to believe that I am here." Nenni paused for many moments, before speaking again. "This is the Woodland Realm, and you are elves?"Nenni asked the question, more than half-hoping to be corrected. The lady elf...no. She remembered, they are called elleth.

The elleth merely smiled in agreement. "And your dog's name...?" _Oh, right._

"Beren was a mighty hero, he did what others could not. And as dogs go, Beren can do what others cannot." Nenni thought a moment. "I'm sorry, I have been rude, I have not even asked your name. Who are you, please?"

"My name is Tinivel...and you are called...?"

"I am Nenni. Nenni Smith, ma'am."

"What is 'ma'am'? " Tinivel asked.

 _Whoops._ "It is a polite form of address, a title of respect, for a female. It is short for 'madam' ."

"I see," Tinivel smiled again.

A disturbing thought crossed Nenni's mind..."Tinivel...how is it we can speak to each other? My mother tongue is called English and...I thought in Ennor, other languages were spoken?"

Tinivel frowned. "We are speaking Sindarin", she replied slowly. "It may be that when King Thranduil saved your life, his mind touched yours in a way that left you with knowledge of our speech."

Her stomach knotted. "King Thranduil saved my life? I do not understand." Nenni's face assuredly looked utterly baffled.

"Do not be anxious", she said. "Our King is a skilled healer. When you were brought to his Halls you were near death. Something was wrong, something was broken inside of your skull. I cannot explain his abilities, but he healed your body enough so that you might live." This was news, indeed.

"But...when I was brought to him I was shackled, I had broken bones, I fell on the floor in front of him because I could not walk...he healed me to live, but he left me still so injured, and jailed me? Only to heal me fully later on?"

Tinivel shook her head. "I cannot explain his reasons to you. But I might guess that in defense of his Realm, he takes no risks. Your character, your spirit, was being tested. It would seem that you passed his test." With that she made to leave. "Remain in your quarters. I will return soon, as I have been assigned to assist you for a time."

Yes ma'am, Nenni thought, as Tinivel closed the door behind her.

What Tinivel did not say, because it was not her place to do so, that was in the three thousand years she'd been alive, King Thranduil had never before personally healed an injured captive. More often than not, the captives brought before him met the blade of his bright sword, especially since the darkening of the woods. He had always reserved his healing prowess only for the most seriously injured of their people, the ones that were beyond the skill of the other healers. That he had spared her life, and used his powers on a daughter of men, Tinivel did not understand.

Nenni reflected that this was her first moment to actually have a chance to think, since all this started. The memories felt jumbled and ridiculous, a train of non sequiturs. The wind storm, an accident, more injuries than she'd had at once in a lifetime, and a beautiful and inexplicable King to whom she now owed allegiance...she shook her head and softly muttered the only words that seemed to fit: "What. The. Unreal. Fuck."

But as usual, Nenni felt next to nothing. Having three main emotions had served her well, from the years of mental abuse in childhood to the sorrows of life as an adult: Pain, Joy, and Flat. Flat was like home, whereas Pain was like an annoying neighbor that dropped in for routine visits. Joy came once in a while, and hurt so much that it may have been Pain's twin brother. Sure she'd had laughs and could feel anger too...but those were fleeting experiences that tended to serve no long term purpose. Probably not a normal or desirable state of affairs, but Nenni had never permanently succeeded at being otherwise. It was so much simpler to stay with Flat. Nenni didn't need a glut of her own emotions, because she had always been an empath. Blessed, or cursed, she was one of those rare and unfortunate people who could feel every emotion in a room, with no way to filter them. She'd always hated parties and large groups because of it. The crush of the emotions of others, spewing into the room, would have her wanting to flee out the door.

Mostly, she hated anger and cruelty on the part of others. For all she'd been through, she was unfailingly kind hearted, and would try and help anyone in need. Or rather, anyone in need who actually deserved it-how many times had she been drawn to others, men especially, that feigned being "broken" and needed "fixing." They could sense what she was, like a tiger smelled a bleeding goat. And they knew how easily they could exploit her, only to cast her aside when she was no longer interesting. _And they can all go fuck themselves,_ she thought. Somehow, she was in Middle Earth, and with the elves. Nothing was quite like the movies she'd seen, and yet it wasn't dissimilar either. Elves, the same elves who were now her people. How had any of this happened? She might never know, so she'd just have to make the best of things, as she'd always done. Or maybe it hadn't happened, and she would still wake up in that padded room. Time would tell.

Thranduil sat alone in the privacy of his chambers, making steady progress through a goblet of heady Dorwinion wine, and reading for the hundredth time the parchment that had arrived by winged messenger a fortnight hence. It was from the Lady Galadriel, someone with whom he'd always felt a degree of unease. She had power and foresight to a degree second only to the Valar, and had busied herself in the affairs of Arda over the centuries. Centuries in which he had preferred to isolate himself in his Halls. And besides, it was difficult to think well of any of the Noldor, given the outcome of their reckless choices. He looked at the flowing Tengwar once again:

 _Aran Thranduil. Something is about to happen, which has not happened but once before, in all the ages of Arda. A power will go out, the like of which I have only felt once before. The blessing returned to you will prove to be the healing of your Realm, your lands...and you. Galu._

He did not understand, but he felt the stirrings of hope. Three days ago, Nenni had been found and brought before him.

Breaking out of her reverie, a few glances around the room revealed a washbasin carved into the stone of the walls, a mirror, a small desk, and another area behind a screen. _Could it be...?_ She gingerly swung her legs off the bed, and was astonished to find that nothing hurt. The damaged ankle worked flawlessly, the heavy cuts and abrasions were all but faded, and even her generally chronic back and neck pains were gone...she hadn't felt this well in living memory. A sense of gratitude flooded through her toward her King, this was a wholly unexpected gift.

Making her way over to the screen, she found what she hoped she'd might, a toilet. A polished wooden seat had been affixed over a channel carved through the stone. Water appeared to run continuously down the sides and through the bottom of this channel, though the source remained hidden. There were cloth squares and a covered basket, as well as a basin containing water, and a ladle with a spout. _Praise be to world travel_ , she thought. Having visited toilets on three continents, the principle seemed obvious enough; sit down and take care of business, use water to clean up, and dry off with the cloths. There was not even a hint of offensive smells...too bad no one on Earth had ever designed such an elegant and sanitary system; she hated human toilet smells. She concluded that she'd best hurry it up, since this was not at all what she preferred Tinivel to find her occupied with, upon her return.

Every scrap of her former clothing had been taken away, and she'd been dressed in entirely new garments. She looked down to realize she was clad in a beautiful but simple dress. There were undergarments that made use of clever side laces, snugged to fit properly. They felt much like linen, though it was impossible to know for certain without asking. Over these were leggings of a soft, thin leather. She'd been given wool socks and calf high boots, that were laid out near the bed. The dress itself was form fitting to the waist, with an attractive, embroidered neckline, belted and sewn with a sort of shelf bra. Finally, a civilization that didn't expect women to bury The Girls under a pile of foam, wires, and elastic. Nenni loved that the skirt design would allow for unrestricted movement. Fitted three-quarter sleeves and abundant but well-concealed pockets completed a comfortable and practical set of clothing. It was modest and attractive, with the cloth having mottled hues ranging from teal to sage green. She felt so pleased, with no idea who to thank for their kindness. This was not an industrial society, she mused; every bit of this ensemble must have taken long hours to create. She'd need to take good care of it.

Nenni made her way to the wash basin, where she found a brass colored lever and a spigot. Moving the lever allowed warm water into the basin, which was fitted with a drain hole. What appeared to be a lye-and-oil kind of sandsoap was in a nearby stone dish. It was pleasingly scented with lavender, or something very much like it, did they have that here? There would be so much to learn, she reflected, drying her hands on a cloth towel. She glanced in the mirror and found, to her great surprise, that her often unruly hair looked quite nice. The sassy reverse A-line cut she preferred often needed a nudge with a brush and a hair dryer, but not today. "Don't question cooperative hair, Nen", she mumbled to herself. But something else caught her eye...where were the wrinkles on her face? She'd always looked young. At age 32 she was routinely mistaken for 18; but at 45 years, the unavoidable signs of age had begun to make their appearance. Yet now, they were simply gone. _What was this place?_ They hadn't mentioned any of this in the books, she thought, not that she was complaining...if, that is, this didn't turn out to have been a very extended hallucination. There was still ample time for that.

A knock on the door suggested that Tinivel had returned. "Come in", Nenni replied.

"I assume you've...made sense of...the facilities in the room?" Tinivel asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes," Nenni chuckled, "everything came out all right."

Tinivel snorted and choked on a laugh, "They did not tell me Edain had such subtle humor."

"I do my best to please", Nenni drily answered with a smile.

"That is well", she laughed, "as there will be much to do. But before we begin, here is someone you wished to see?"

With that, Beren burst though the door, eighty pounds of wags and shrieks and barks of delight. "Buddy!" Nenni cried out, "It's my buddy!" as she dropped down to greet him, hoping that her fine clothes weren't about to be ruined under a trail of slobber. It took a full five minutes of barking, howling, whining, moaning, licking and wagging before he could calm down.

"I see he missed you!" said Anthilen, sending a wink and adding quickly, "My name is Anthilen".

Grinning, she replied, "Thank you for caring for him, Anthilen, I'm pleased to meet you. I'm called Nenni. I hope he hasn't been too much trouble."

"Oh, he has been a handful, actually...what do you do with him?"

Nenni flushed slightly red, as she knew full well what mischief Beren could manage.

She answered. "On my farm, he protected our domestic animals from wild predators. He needs a great deal of exercise or else his behavior can, ah, go into decline..."

Anthilen smiled. "I should very much like to hear more about this, at a later time. With your permission, I will take him now, we have a place in which he can have exercise in safety. I believe he has already had adequate meat to eat."

"Great idea, thank you so much!" Nenni said, with no small sense of relief, as Anthilen took a wagging Beren and left.

 _Wait, what did he mean, 'already had adequate meat to eat?' What did the dog do this time?_...Nenni felt her face turning beet red.

"You must be hungry?" Tinivel asked, interrupting Nenni's embarrassment.

"Yes, now that you mention it", Nenni replied.

"Meals are thrice daily here", Tinivel explained. "They are signaled by chimes, that can be heard throughout all the halls of our realm. When they sound, it means that within a bell, the food will be served in the Great Hall."

"A bell?" Nenni queried.

Tinivel explained,"We mark our divisions of time with a series of bell sounds. Each thirty minutes, for four hours, a particular bell pattern is rung. Then the pattern begins anew. Long ages ago, the great timepiece was a gift of the Dwarves to our people."

Nenni's jaw dropped. "You use ship's bell timekeeping, in the Woodland Realm? I am going to feel more at home here than I did at home."

Tinivel looked confused, but smiled and asked no further.

They walked along, Nenni thinking happily about the Chelsea Ship's Bell that kept time in her farm house, a fond reminder of adventures at sea.

Tinivel interrupted her thoughts. "As we are outside of a meal time, we will stop by the kitchen. Some food is to be had there, at all times." The long path they walked brought them into full view of the vastness of the caverns. Paths and walkways seemed to snake everywhere, on many levels. With some measure of dismay, Nenni realized how long it would take to become oriented. They reached the kitchen at last, and found fare that seemed quite familiar: fresh and dried fruits, milk, breads and biscuits, and preserves and butter. And kettles of water near the fire, kept boiling for tea...of which there was a dizzying selection.

Tinivel guided Nenni through the choices, then to a stone bench with a small carven table, where they might converse whilst eating. "Here", she said, handing Nenni three small utensils on a ring, as well as a small flask. They bore general resemblance to the fork, spoon and spreading knife of earth. "We each of us keep our tableware on our persons, and attend to the cleaning of them ourselves." Tinivel demonstrated how to remove them from the ring, and indicated across the room the cloths and tongs kept in a boiling, soapy cauldron for cleaning and the running tap under which they could be rinsed.

"And the bowls and plates?" Nenni asked "How are they cared for?" Tinivel waved to a counter on the other side of the kitchens, where ceramic bowls, wooden bowls, and ceramic plates were left in neat stacks for cleaning. Nenni noticed immediately that every plate already looked clean-the message was clear: This was not a place in which to waste even a morsel of food. They finished eating, in thoughtful silence.

Before they departed, Tinivel showed Nenni to fill her flask with water, and how the flask hooked neatly onto her belt. They returned to Nenni's room. "Tinivel, I feel tired yet. Might I rest? "

"Certainly, Tinivel said." Do you wish anything with which to occupy yourself, besides sleep?"

Nenni considered a long moment. "Yes, if it is possible. Please, I would like something upon which to write or draw. Paper? If there are pencils, that would be wonderful. If not, any implement of writing would be appreciated. And are there books I might read, to learn more of this place, its people and customs?"

Tinivel left, and Nenni sat in thought. I have no reason to believe I can ever go back, Nenni thought. _Will time go by, and I will forget all the things that brought me joy on Earth?_ It wasn't all bad, she knew. It was just that the bad, at least for her, so drastically outweighed what the good could manage. She wished, with a burning desire, to make the lists and drawings that would remind her of all she had left behind, before they were lost from her mind.

Tinivel returned with a generous amount of parchment, inkpots, and...quills, to Nenni's slight unspoken dismay. She could draw, but not with the kind of accuracy that left out a frequent need for erasers. And parchment...that had to be a precious commodity, and perhaps was costly. She would need to be careful, and use each inch well.

She sat in thought for minutes or hours, then would return to the desk to write or carefully pen a small drawing. She tried to remember what she knew of art, and pen drawing and shading. She wrote slowly, so as to form the letters carefully and make no mistakes. For three solid weeks this went on, from her waking to her sleeping at night. The double-sided pages began to fill with everything imaginable. Since Tinivel gave her the choice, she declined to leave her room, asking instead for very small dishes of food to be brought to her twice a day. She was not hungry most of the time, and did not want to be given more than she could eat. Tinivel brought her food and fresh underclothes and washcloths, and a fresh dress at the end of each week. Tinivel found that conversation with Nenni was unfailingly polite but forced, since she obviously wanted only to return to her activities. Her eyes burned with her focus.

Sheet after sheet she filled, covering every inch of the front and back with maps, lists, sketches, quotes, notes, names, diagrams, texts of songs in six languages. It looked like the ravings of a lunatic. Italian song lyrics might lie next to a diagram for a water turbine; the Armenian alphabet might turn up next to what she could recall of the Periodic Table of the Elements. It included a map of her farm, to which she had allocated an unusually large amount of inches, and a list of fruit trees she had ever planted. Lists surrounding the sketches, like frames, that read like "Clinometer, Lipizzaners, Kubota tractor, Moby Dick". "Masthead hitch, bowline, clove hitch, marlinspike hitch, Bunsen burner, transfer pipet, autoclave, laminar flow hood. Shotgun."

One page, however, she reserved for what was foul and terrible. She detailed cannons, firearms, tanks and warplanes. She drew the mushroom cloud of the nuclear bombs, listed the names of the concentration camps. She accounted for the battlefields of the World Wars, the names of those criminals who'd immortalized themselves by their acts of unfettered evil, and the many other engines of violence and cruelty that she could recall. She recalled the fossil fuels and the pollution and the chemicals that poisoned the air and water, the technology that helped advance learning but also cleaved humans from the natural world. The lost species and the dying oceans. She wouldn't leave herself only remembering that it was all lovely and good. Because it was not.

In the evenings, when her back and fingers ached and she could hold the quills no longer, she would open the books and read about Elves. She was grateful, however it was possible, that she could read the strange, flowing scripts of the two Sindarin Tengwar. Language meant so much to her, and being cut off from reading would have been unbearable. There were times, too, when she began to feel very tired and unwell, as if she did not belong in her own body. But, as it caused her no overt illness, she said nothing. Every evening, Anthilen brought Beren to her room, so that she might sleep with him. And every morning, Anthilen collected him for exercise, so that Nenni might work.

One mid-afternoon, Nenni heard a knock on her door. "Come in" she said mechanically, not looking up from her struggle to sketch a violin. A full three minutes went by, with Nenni trying to recall exactly where the f holes were placed in relation to the bridge, before she realized that no one had said a word. It dawned on her that she was quite possibly ignoring Tinivel, and she looked up suddenly. "Tinivel, I am sorry, I was not..." her words trailed off as she saw that it was not Tinivel, but King Thranduil, who had entered her room. "My Lord" Nenni said, leaving her chair and kneeling before him. "I apologize," she said, her cheeks flushing bright red. He held out his hand to her, and raised her up. He was the better part of a foot taller than she, and his proximity was effectively intimidating. She looked down at the floor, only to feel his fingers raise her eyes to his.

"I am told, Nenni, that you are occupied in this room with no end in sight, and that you are using the entire supply of inkpots in the Woodland Realm." His expression was unreadable, but not unkind. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper red. "May I see what it is, that has so captured your interest?"

Nenni felt a twinge of unease at this request, but it did not seem wise nor polite to refuse the King. After all, it was his ink, parchment, and quills that she'd used. "Yes, my Lord."

She watched him as he carefully picked up the stack, and slowly looked at each and every page. She felt like she had stood there for an hour, growing more unsettled all the time. He said nothing, until he came to the large diagram. "What does this describe?" he inquired.

"It is a drawing, a map, of my little farm, my Lord. I wished..." she trailed off..."I wished to remember it."

"How much land does this indicate?" he asked. "To walk the perimeter of the farm would be a little more than a quarter of a league, my Lord."

His eyebrows arched. King Thranduil looked at more of the papers. "What is a...Lipizzaner?" He asked. "

They are a special type of horse of my world. They...they dance and..." she had to choke back her tears. Her memory of seeing them once, in the great white hall of the Spanish Riding School in Vienna, had been the single happiest day of her life.

King Thranduil watched her, and patiently waited, as she struggled to master her emotions. "Nenni," he said kindly, "I wish you to follow a different routine tomorrow." When Tinivel comes, you are to leave this room to take your meal elsewhere, and follow her instructions. Do you understand?"

Nenni took a deep breath. She realized this obsessiveness was likely not healthy, but she so wanted to keep working lest she forget anything. "Yes, my Lord," she answered, bowing her head.

"I take my leave of you" he said, and departed.

The next morning when Tinivel arrived, Nenni obeyed the King's instruction, and followed her dutifully out the door. After breakfast, Tinivel said,"We are next going to meet Aranel, Gwenilin, and Orothel. They are advisors to our King, as well as scholars."

"Tinivel", Nenni asked, suddenly wondering, "What am I to do here?"

Laughing, Tinivel replied, "I believe that is what we hope to discover."

For the first time since arriving, Nenni felt a real surge of anxiety. She'd quit working in the "real world" because...decades of working with other people had been hell. The backstabbing, the expectations, the political games...it had been enough to erode her already tenuous mental health near to the breaking point. Being able to farm had been a blessing. She worked hard, but she worked hard for herself. Problem solving, puzzling out answers, experimenting with new ideas...this was the kind of work she so badly needed. With a sense of dread, it occurred to her that her pledge to King Thranduil might require her to do a great many things she'd dislike. To be sure, she'd made that agreement under what she'd call Significant Duress, but she had agreed. A past version of herself might have started brooding on the injustice of it all, except, finding herself in Middle Earth, looking (and feeling) fifteen years younger, seemed like it might be a more than adequate trade-off. Deep breaths, Nenni, deep breaths.

They entered a large, brightly lit room with walls of shelved books. Comfortable looking chairs and privacy screens were scattered about, giving the firm impression of a cozy library. Nenni hoped that she might enjoy this room alone, sometime. Two ellon and an elleth greeted them warmly, introduced themselves, and gestured for to be seated around a circular table.

"Mae govannen, Nenni", Aranel began. "It is our understanding that you have pledged your service to the Woodland Realm. I'm sure you have many questions."

"Well," Nenni began slowly, "I'm not sure if 'pledged my service' are exactly the right words. I was given the condition that I must remain here, subject to the King and to this Realm. Or be executed. Since I accepted the King's terms in order to keep breathing, I obligated myself to abide by whatever the King meant by 'subject to'. And in most places, making oneself useful, working, is the least one can do."

She could swear she caught a flash of pity cross Aranel's eyes, but his face remained inscrutable. "Perhaps you might tell us what it is you do. Did. Can you describe how you occupied yourself, in your world?"

 _This might be quite a speech,_ Nenni thought, sighing deeply. "I'll try to be concise, the best I can do is go in chronological order. In my world, which we call Earth, many have more than one 'occupation'... Wait. Are you also asking me what skills I have, that did not involve paid work?"

Aranel nodded.

 _Oh boy. Come on Nenni, you can do this._ "As a child, my time was spent in school, places we are sent to learn the subjects needed to function in our world as adults. We learn our language, writing and composition, simple mathematics, our history, science, the workings of our government. I also began to study other languages spoken on my world."

"How many languages are there?" interrupted Orothel.

"Thousands, sir, but the number of tongues spoken by great numbers of people amount to perhaps a few dozen." Orothel frowned. "How many people live on...Earth?"

"I believe we reached a population of seven billion not long ago, sir."

"What is...billion?" Orothel asked.

"Do you have the number 'million', sir?"

"Yes, though that is an unimaginably great number."

"Math is not my strongest subject, but a billion is a thousand million." Four pairs of eyebrows shot straight up.

"Please continue to tell us of your skills and learning," Gwenilin smoothly intervened.

"Yes, of course" Nenni said, feeling relieved to be saved from tangents at this early juncture. "At age 15 I began to apprentice with a veterinarian. They are healers, for animals. I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian, myself. I learned to ride horses, though I did not achieve very high levels of skill. I can take basic care of horses, and ride them passably well, but difficult maneuvers and jumping over objects was not a success. At age 17 I left my home to attend college...it is a place for higher learning, in many subject areas, where many scholars work and research. I abandoned my desire to be an animal healer because I found the required learning too difficult. Instead I chose to study languages, writing and literature, and many kinds of practical application of the sciences. Subjects like caring for fowl, raising fruit trees, and how to generate alternative energy."

"What is alternative energy?" Gwenelin asked.

"That is the technology by which electricity can be produced using wind, water or the power of the sun. Regrettably, the common method to produce energy is the burning of fuels that foul the air and water."

"Then why is it done, what does this energy do?" Orothel demanded.

Why did Nenni have the feeling this tangent was going nowhere good? "My world has used electricity for more than the last hundred years. It is the same phenomena as lightning, but we control it. Mostly. We use it to light our world at night, to operate many kinds of machines, and...really that is a whole other very long discussion." Orothel did not press further.

Gwendilin steered the conversation back on course: "What came next, in your learning?"

Nenni resumed: "After I finished my studies, I needed to find a job. At roughly age 17-22, humans are expected to make their own way in the world. The age of 21 is when all rights of an adult citizen are granted to a person. Jobs pay money, and money is needed to pay in turn for housing, food, and goods. I took a job at the university at which I'd studied, making biological media. Biological media is what is used to grow microbes, so that they can be studied, and so that diseases can be identified." Orothel began to look pained.

"What are microbes?"

 _Oh, no. Deep breaths._ "Microbes, sir, are...what is the smallest living thing that you can name, sir?"

"Insects, perhaps ants."

"Well, microbes are as small to ants as ants are to us. Humans invented lenses by which to discover and study them, even though they cannot be seen by the eye alone." Orophel remained silent. "Many years later, I took another job at the university. It was also in the sciences, a place where scholars study the illnesses of animals and humans, especially illnesses related to food. And somewhere in there I left, to work on a sailing ship for many months.

Lastly though, my husband and I bought land on which to have a farm, to raise food. And prepare and cook food. That is what I loved doing most. Eventually I left all work at the university in order to work only on my farm. And in all that time I learned some other skills. I can play some musical instruments, and read musical notation, but mostly I am a classically trained singer. I became very adept at the care and raising of poultry; chickens and turkeys, in particular. I have an interest in the premodern technology of my world, how things were accomplished before electricity. I became interested in more languages, and the geology, botany, and ancient history of my world. I can do a great many different things at some skill level, and am an expert at none of them. I am able to learn most new things easily. And I don't know if it matters, but I greatly enjoy organizing. And cleaning."

"You are wed?" Gwendilin asked. " I was, ma'am, twice. My first husband and I divorced, and my second husband was killed in an accident."

"You marry more than once, in your world?" Gwendilin asked with the closest facial expression to shock Nenni had yet seen.

"Yes ma'am, there are some people that have married over a dozen times. In past times, more people were bound by religious beliefs and laws, and it was the norm that death ended the bonds of marriage. Now, anything ends the ties of marriage. It is social and economic contract more than anything else, and...intimate relations...occur freely outside of marriage in many cultures." Nenni was pretty sure she saw a new shade of color on the cheeks of every elf in the room. _Well, they had asked._

"And can you fight? Are there warriors in your world?" interjected Aranel.

"There are warriors, sir, but I am not one of them. I can fire different kinds of guns, and though I'm long out of practice I could perhaps learn again to use a bow. In my world warfare is specialized, with the most advanced technology...and terrible beyond measure," Nenni finished quietly.

To Nenni's great relief, Aranel spoke: "Thank you. I am sure we will have much more to discuss. For now we will withdraw, and reflect on what you have told us." Aranel, Orophel and Gwenilin speedily departed.

After they'd left, Nenni looked over at Tinivel. "I had not realized how strange and difficult it would be to explain my world to others. Did I make sense?"

Before Tinivel could respond, a sonorous and silky voice answered in her place, "You made perfect sense, my newest subject. Tinivel, leave us, wait outside."

Tinivel rose immediately. "Yes, my Lord" she uttered as she swiftly exited the room.


	3. Dragonwind-Revelation

Nenni stood up so hurriedly, she almost knocked the chair over. She turned toward him and knelt...desperately trying to recall if any of her words had been disrespectful toward him. King Thranduil approached so close that his robes brushed her face. For the first time, she had a clear enough head to notice his scent. She'd always noticed every person's smell, she smelled everything. She'd given serious consideration to perhaps having been part dog, in another life, and she'd often been teased about her liberal use of the olfactory sense. _If every scent was like his_ , she thought, _how lovely it would be._ He smelled of cedar and lavender, and she decided then and there that if she had to spend eternity locked in his wardrobe, surrounded by that perfume, that there would be worse fates in the world.

She felt his long fingers under her jaw, gently raising her head up. He did that quite a lot, she mused. Ordinarily she did not tolerate the touch of strangers, but she had a consuming sense that he would not harm her. That and, she was fairly sure she had no choice but to allow him anything he wished, he was King.

"Stand," he said "and look at me." She obeyed, and for the first time really considered him. Her senses were all functioning, today. Including the sixth one, which pain and extreme distraction could silence. His was a tremendous presence. His eyes held a great depth; they were not ordinary, and not only because of their color or intensity. There was a sense of weight, and an aura of strength, emanating from his body...and something else. Something that shielded itself carefully, behind an unreadable exterior. The first two meant little to Nenni, but the third intrigued her. She wondered what he hid, and why it was necessary. This man, this elf, was every inch a King.

"Do you have anything you wish to say?" he asked, with the faintest smirk.

 _Why the smirk_ , she wondered? She glanced down, then locked eyes with him again. "Yes," she answered. "I don't understand how, or why, but I believe I am in your debt not only for sparing my life, but for saving it in the first place. Thank you. I'm truly grateful for that, and for..." she trailed off, breaking eye contact.

"For what?" he demanded.

"You healed me. You healed me of my injuries, but you did more than that. I am free of pain in my body for the first time in many years. It was an unexpected gift. Thank you." That sounded nauseatingly maudlin, but it was the truth. There was silence.

"I expected," he paused, "that I would be hearing of your unhappiness with the circumstances by which you are now bound here."

She now saw just a little curiosity, in his blue eyes. "I will confess, my Lord, that in my world, a pledge made with execution as the alternative is not considered to be a pledge made freely. But unless I have gone mad, and all this is a dream, I am no longer on Earth. You are King, this is your kingdom, and under the circumstances, my own ideas about fairness don't really matter. They wouldn't have mattered if you were King Henry VIII."

King Thranduil looked at her with a growing expression of puzzlement. "Your name, Nenni. Is that a common name in your world?"

"No, my Lord, it is not. It is a nickname. My mother named me Adonnenniel, because my grandmother insisted on it. Which is not only beyond strange for a name, it is far too difficult for most people to remember, or pronounce. So I call myself 'Nenni,' for the convenience of others."

King Thranduil froze and his eyes widened. She could swear he'd gone pale, which is saying a lot for one of the fair folk. He had the look of someone who is about to say something, then changes his mind. "You are most... unusual. You will dine with me tomorrow evening, and you will tell me of this King Henry VIII." With that he released her gaze and stepped away. "One other thing", he said, pausing at the door.

"Yes, my King?"

"You need not kneel each time we meet. You are now my subject, not my captive."

"As you wish, my Lord" she said to his departing robes. Nenni was not sure she would ever understand the nuances of of monarchy. After King Thranduil had been gone a moment, Tinivel reappeared. "Had you known he was in here, listening?" Nenni fired at Tinivel.

"No, I did not...but such is his way. He moves among his people a great deal of the time, hearing and seeing what he will. He does not rule from on high, but makes an effort to know as much as he can. I know he can seem terrifying, and his moods and anger can be unenjoyable, but I know in my heart he truly cares for all of us. And, of late he has changed. He is kinder now, less quick to anger."

Nenni reflected for a moment. "Did something happen to him?" she asked.

Tinivel replied carefully, "It is said that he experienced great loss, long ago. He is much older than I, and I have lived for over a thousand years. Out of respect, we do not speak of it."

Nenni had forgotten about that. In the books, the elves were immortal, living forever unless their lives were cut down by battle or similar occurrence. Her heart went out to him...enduring loss was the bane of existence.

"Tinivel," Nenni said, " is there a place I might be alone for awhile? Like a garden, or a pleasantly lit room, somewhere away from the hearing of others? I feel a need to rest and to think. And...King Thranduil told me I am to eat with him tomorrow night. I don't know what that entails, or if there are customs and etiquette to be observed. I don't even know where to go, or when."

Tinivel's eyebrows shot straight up. "Yes, there most certainly are considerations. The first being, you will need far better attire for such an occasion. He honors you greatly, with this invitation." She thought a moment. "First we must go to the seamstresses, so that they have time to create a suitable gown. And then, I believe I know of a place in which you may enjoy some solitude."

"I cannot thank you enough", Nenni replied. And she meant it.

The paths to the seamstresses' chambers seemed to wind on for a good quarter mile. _No one who lives here can be physically unfit_ , she thought to herself. While she'd walked a great deal on her little farm, she was certain that life here would mean mileage. They arrived at the open doorway of a vast room that put any fabric store on earth to shame. Nenni stared in disbelief at the endless bolts of different fabrics, in a riot of colors and patterns. It would take a month, just to understand the system by which they were organized.

A smiling elleth approached them. "Good afternoon, Ardethwis". Tinivel said. "This is Nenni, who is to take the evening meal with the King tomorrow. She cannot present herself for this honor wearing these garments. Would you create something suitable?"

A broad smile leaped across the face of Ardethwis. Nenni felt that somehow, she had made Ardethwis' entire day complete. A flurry of measuring ensued, with notes taken of her skin tone, eye and hair color. "Do you have favorite colors, Nenni?" Ardethwis asked.

Nenni's hair was a luxurious copper red, and she did enjoy certain shades. "Purple, like the color of eggplants, blue/greens, black, and the colors of autumn leaves. And please...no pink!"

Ardethwis smiled, already imagining designs.

"Shall I return tomorrow afternoon?" asked Tinivel.

"Most certainly", Ardethwis replied. "I shall have this prepared not later than two hours after the midday meal."

As they departed, Nenni felt bewildered. "A person merely asks for clothing, and it is personally designed and tailored to suit any occasion?" she asked. Quickly adding, "And I am sorry that I failed to mention my thanks for the clothes I am wearing now. I am afraid the garments I had before are..."

"Do not feel that you have imposed", interrupted Tinivel. "This is our custom, and our King sees that we are well provided with all that we require. And I am sorry to say...the remains of your clothing were appropriated by the rug-weavers with great haste."

Nenni burst out laughing. "Pretty bad, huh?"

"Indeed", said Tinivel firmly.

"Well, that's farming."

They arrived, after a much shorter walk, to a large and simple chamber that held books, a few chairs, large floor cushions, and beautiful wall hangings patterned with vines and flowers. Nenni loved that so much in the Realm was patterned after the natural world above. "Will this suit?" Tinivel asked.

"Yes, wonderfully so...but I could not find my way back if I tried. How will I find you, and how much time may I have?"

"The evening meal is in two hours," Tinivel pointed to a table across the room. "You see the hourglass there? Start it, turn it once it empties, and I shall return not long before the last of the sand runs out." With that, she departed.

Nenni felt well, maybe even a little happy. But change was stressful, even if it was good change. She thought perhaps she should spend most of her time trying to relax, and sing. Feeling like she wished to sing was the real reason she'd asked for such isolation. Nenni could never really understand it herself, as she enjoyed performing, why she desperately needed to believe no one could listen to her practice. And, it had been awhile. Singing had been to tied to her well-being, and she hadn't sung a note in months. She'd studied for years, with professional teachers, to gain some mastery over the complex vocal art that seemed so deceptively simple to an onlooker. Nenni often compared the study of voice, privately, to trying to balance with one foot on a beachball while juggling teacups and reciting poetry. Backwards. And the last and hardest hurdle to navigate had been her own anxiety, and the bodily tension that went with it.

She worked her slow way through a routine of stretches, yoga poses, deep breathing. And finally, began to test a few vowels. These first notes acted as a barometer, because they revealed right away if this was going to be a good practice or a bad one. Since no singer can hear themselves, they are taught to identify a string of bodily sensations that accompany the creation of vocal sound. One of many things, Nenni mused, that made absolutely no sense to those outside the craft. She was surprised and pleased, that everything felt fine. More than fine, really.

First the middle range, then the lower, then most of the high register. Hers was a light coloratura soprano, best suited to the Baroque music of Earth. With a pang she realized, that music might be gone from her forever, save for what few pieces she still might have memorized. This thought threatened to plunge her into sadness, and she hurriedly shook it off. She took a deep breath and began the Abendempfindung, by Mozart. She threw herself into the expressive lyrics as she'd never done before. And at the end, after the last note died away, she burst into tears. She cried until there was nothing left to cry.

Maybe that hadn't been the best choice...however lovely, the entire song was about death and loss. And she'd lost her husband, and her farm, and her world without having had a moment to mourn it. She had to clean up. Nenni didn't want Tinivel finding her like this, and she always looked a mess after she'd been crying. It would take her face and eyes time to un-swell, not to mention having needed to unceremoniously use the inside of her under-skirt for a handkerchief. She really needed to ask about handkerchiefs. She lay down on a few of the floor pillows, to collect her thoughts and close her eyes for a moment.

Tinivel shook her gently awake. "Nenni?" she asked with concern, "are you unwell?"

Nenni's cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, I had not meant to fall asleep. I don't know why I did."

"You need not apologize", she replied. "Your hröa has been through a very great ordeal these last days, and some residual tiredness is to be expected. Do you feel well enough to come to the evening meal?"

"Yes, I do", Nenni said. She was certain that if she wasn't fully awake now, she would be after the next mile hike through the Halls.

The Elvenking returned slowly to his chambers, using his favorite passageways; those seldom intruded upon by others. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a muted song. His interest piqued, he turned down a maze of corridors to discover the source, and located the door. Most entrances in his realm were fitted with a small disc of metal that swung on its mounting, making it possible to check whether or not it was suitable to enter a given room. He carefully, silently moved this disc just enough to see the singer. When he realized it was Nenni, he quickly closed the disc. She would not be in such a remote location, if she desired an audience. He moved to leave, but found he could not. The song was hauntingly beautiful. He listened to the utterly foreign German words, and found that he could understand:

 _Werdet ihr dann an meinem Grabe weinen,/Trauernd meine Asche sehn,/Dann, o Freunde, will ich euch erscheinen/Und will himmelauf euch wehn._

He quickly walked away, choked with grief and unable to hear more. And he knew then what he must do; something he'd put off for longer than an age.

Thranduil heard the expected knock upon his door. "Come", he said, with a heavy sigh. All the wine he'd already consumed was not going to make this discussion any easier.

Legolas entered the room. "You sent for me, Ada?"

"Please, sit", he gestured, waving Legolas into a nearby chair, and pouring him wine. He took a very deep breath and looked at his only son. "Ionneg," he said slowly, "this conversation I must have with you will be more difficult for me than centuries of rulership over our people." He paused, as concern spread across Legolas' usually sunny expression. "I must ask for your patience with me, as I have never told another of this."

Legolas, startled, and unused to the barely concealed emotion with which his father clearly struggled, tentatively reached across the table to press his hand upon the King's. "Ada, whatever it is that you wish to tell me, I am here with you."

"I have never spoken of your naneth to you, Legolas, and for that I must ask your forgiveness. I had no right to deprive you of any knowledge of her, when she loved you so very much." He continued slowly, "I have never healed from the pain of losing her. For long years I allowed my heart to harden in bitterness, that of all the Eldar, I alone should suffer such a fate."

Legolas frowned in confusion. "But Ada, will you not one day reunite with her, if you choose to sail into the West?"

"No", said Thranduil, "I will not". The King took a shuddering breath and continued. "Your mother was slaughtered by Ancalagon the Black, as we fought together in the War of Wrath. We became separated from the main part of our host, fighting the orcs at Gundabad, and on a mountainside the dragon found us. We were defenseless against him. When he took your naneth by fire, he created a searing wind, crackling with energy. The Dragonwind left me scarred, and half-blinded. He could easily have engulfed me as well, but left me alive to suffer her loss, knowing that sparing me was a far worse fate. But there was more."

Thranduil steeled himself, and had to muster all his will. "He used the great powers granted him by Morgoth to perform his greatest act of wrenching cruelty. A day does not pass in which I do not recall his bitter words to me. The dragon said: 'Remember for all your days the price of opposing the Lord Melkor, Thranduil, son of Oropher. After this hour will you bear the scars of your defiance. But your wife, your beloved, will perish here today before you, with a finality no power in Arda can undo. She will not journey to the Halls of Mandos. I will sever her fëa from Arda itself. For you, will there be no hope of reuniting, no solace through the long years of your accursed life. Look upon her your last, and despair.' "

Legolas sat, transfixed in horror. "Ada..."

"There is more, Ionneg. It is known among our people that during the Battle of the Five Armies, Tauriel challenged me. She raged at me with the words "There is no love in you." She was right to do so, and her actions that day forced me to awaken to what I had allowed myself to become. Your naneth was kind, and generous in spirit, and it would have grieved her to see me be overtaken by everything that was unlovely to her heart. I began to pray to the Valar for assistance, for the healing of my spirit, and began to seek to better my ways." He paused long before continuing, his voice growing quieter. "Two weeks ago, I received this message from the Lady Galadriel." Thranduil nudged the parchment across the table.

Legolas read for himself: _Aran Thranduil. Something is about to happen, which has not happened but once before, in all the ages of Arda. A power will go out, the like of which I have only felt once before. The blessing returned to you will prove to be the healing of your Realm, your lands...and you. Galu._

Legolas looked up. "Ada, what does this mean?"

With yet another heavy sigh, Thranduil said, "Three days ago a human female captive was brought to our halls. This you know. What you could not have known was that when I looked upon her fëa, I saw the fëa of your mother. When I touched her mind to save her life, I felt the spirit that has been kept from me for thousands of years. I was cautious; I told myself that this could not be. I tested her spirit by giving her every reason to believe she faced death at my hand for the crime of trespass. All know that the safety of all our Realm is at risk from any stranger. She proved respectful and compliant, with no malice in her."

He continued, "Today when I spoke with her, I asked her to explain her name. She is called "Nenni", but she offered further that this was a shortened form of her birth name, Adonnenniel. Legolas, your naneth's name is Adonenniel."

Legolas sat many long minutes, frozen into silence. "Ada, what will you do?"

Thranduil stared into his goblet of wine as if it might provide the answers he desperately sought. "I do not fully know, Ionneg. But my heart tells me that for the first time in thousands of years, that there is hope for me. Nenni is not your naneth, not fully. She was sent here from a place outside Arda, and her life's experiences there are her own. I do not believe she yet understands what is happening to her, nor entirely do I. But I can feel in my heart that in her hröa, lives the fëa of my wife and your naneth. I do not understand the fullness of the Valar's will. But I pray I have your blessing, as I try to seek happiness for all three of us."

Legolas stood and walked around the table to his father. Thranduil opened his arms, and for the first time in centuries, father and son embraced each other. A single tear flowed down the cheek of the Elvenking.

"Ionneg, I must ask one more thing. I fear to reveal to Nenni what I have told you here. I must be careful, as I do not know if her spirit can bear the weight of this knowledge. Yet I also fear to keep this knowledge from her. Perhaps there are things you may do to teach her our ways, or lighten her heart. It was made clear to me that she has suffered much. I have asked her to dine with me here, tomorrow evening. If you would join us for a brief time, I should like to introduce you to her."

"As you wish, Ada. And Ada...it does my heart good to see this befall you, though your path is not clear." Thranduil inclined his head toward his son. Legolas took his leave, determined to make a very long patrol of their lands alone. He could think best, when he ran the paths of their forest.


	4. Dragonwind-Preparations

[Iavas 48/49, Imladris reckoning. September 19/20, Gregorian]

Chapter Text

As Tinivel and Nenni made their way to the Great Hall, Nenni heard the mealtime chimes, and thought it far more pleasant than the iron triangle dinner bells of earth. "How does this work, Tinivel, the taking of meals?" she asked, suddenly feeling terribly awkward. She didn't like large crowds, and it occurred to her that a place named "Great Hall" might hold quite a large number. "We will enter the Hall and make our way to a table. Plates and cups will already be there, and you have your eating utensils. Platters of food are laid out on each table. Each may help themselves from the platters and decanters of drink at each table. We are expected to fill or mostly fill the seating at each table before choosing an empty one; this allows the servers to bear the correct amount of food so that nothing is wasted. There are no assigned places, because it is too difficult to say who will come to any particular meal."

 _So much for eating at the loneliest table at the far side of the room,_ Nenni thought. "Are there rules about leaving the table?" She remembered a few ugly family dinners in which she was thoroughly chastised for leaving her seat too soon. "Mostly not," Tinivel said. "Usually, the dining allows for the comings and goings associated with the many occupations of the realm. The exception is, if the King chooses to dine here. All entrances at this level are for the use of anyone, as they connect to different passages within the caverns. But the entrance above," which Tinivel pointed out," is for the use of the King and the nobility alone. The King may invite whomsoever he chooses to dine with him, or no one. When he arrives, his steward will ring a handbell. We all rise from our places to acknowledge our King; we bow or curtsy to him. He will signal us to then resume our meal. After he is seated, we many continue to come and go as we need to. Feasts are similar, but perhaps a little more elaborate. The food and drink prepared on those evenings are extra special. We are a merry folk", she concluded, as she laughed at her fond memories. Nenni felt reassured: "Even an introvert like me might enjoy that, I am pleased to hear of such practicality."

The meal was over soon enough, and it was surprisingly well prepared. There were seasoned grains, and sliced meats to go with freshly baked breads and abundant butter. Beautiful platters of fresh and roasted greens, too, with sauces and dressings she would look forward to sampling. As they brought their plates and cups to stack on the monstrously large sideboard, Nenni realized how tired she'd become, in spite of seemingly having done nothing all day. Emotional exhaustion, she supposed. Tinivel guided Nenni back to her room.

"We have instructions to let you rest as long as you will. When you are ready tomorrow, you can summon us by pulling this cord." She indicated a hanging cord, just outside the door. Nenni made ready to enter the room. "Tinivel, thank you for all your trouble, I very much appreciate your help. I would be lost here, otherwise." "You are very welcome, Nenni. I wish you a good night." She turned with her dazzling smile, and walked down the corridor. Where, Nenni wondered, did she live? She smiled and went into her room, grateful to see Beren, and grateful for the solitude. She found a nightgown, and fresh underclothes laid out for tomorrow, along with washcloths and towels. Did they have baths or showers here, she wondered? After her long self-imposed isolation, it was more than beyond time to wash in a manner that did not merely involve a sink. She hurriedly scrubbed her hands and face. Beren was already on the bed, with all four legs in the air. _Hound dogs do love their comforts_ , she thought, as she blew out the two wall candles that lit the room.

Hopes that Beren might be lazy, and allow for sleeping in, were dashed when Nenni awoke to a wet nose loudly sniffing her face. She rolled over to ignore him, which brought on the whining. It was far later than the usual time Anthilen collected him. _Oh to hell with it_ , she thought. This could only go on one direction, with the end result that he'd be barking at her loudly enough to shake the walls. She'd unquestionably spoiled him with indulgence...he had a proud spirit and she'd learned to choose her battles.

Above all, Nenni hated to cause needless inconvenience or offense, so she rose quickly and dressed in order to head off the Canine Opera. It occurred to her as well that Beren's housebreaking had always been slightly shaky. Once he understood a place was "home", he would never have an accident unless he was ill. But it was not past him at all to be confused on issues of propriety in new places, and could decide to lift his leg at the most inconvenient times. Though the dog usually had an iron bladder, it might be best not to trust that, this morning. She ducked outside the door to give the cord a swift yank, and returned to the room to comb out her hair.

In less than a minute, both Tinivel and Anthilen appeared. Anthilen greeted her warmly. "Nenni", he said,"in the short time I've spent with Beren, he shows a remarkable ability to track scent. I would like to ask you if we might work with him, to teach him the scent of Orc. His abilities might prove of great aid to us. The threat to our realm from these foul creatures is eve- present." He quickly added ,"We would make every effort to keep him from harm." Nenni paused.

On earth, Beren's kind were used for centuries to hunt bears. They were bred to be tenacious and relentless in their pursuit of prey...and many of the dogs were killed thus. They were not really meant to be pets, but rather loved to work and hunt. She'd always wondered what Beren might do, if allowed to fulfill his potential...and yet she feared losing him. _Do not make choices from a place of fear,_ she thought.

"I will agree," Nenni said. "I know that he can do more than what living on a farm allowed, hunting rabbits and raccoons. If there are other dogs here, his breed is meant to hunt in packs. But...please keep him safe. I know I will lose him someday, but I don't know if I could bear it anytime soon." Anthilen smiled broadly. "I believe he will make you proud, and I will train him personally. All beasts that live and work with us are treated with kindness." With that he and Beren jogged off joyfully, with Beren barking in excitement. Nenni had never been a skilled runner. Beren would be very happy, with someone who could match his endurance.

"Breakfast?" Tinivel asked. Nenni nodded, and they made their way once again to the Great Hall. Griddlecakes of wheat and oat, syrups, fruit, scrambled eggs and sweetrolls were all available. As they ate, Nenni asked, "Am I permitted to explore the caverns?" Tinivel replied, "Yes, of course. There are places that are for the use of the king and nobles, to which most of us do not wander. Would you like to spend the morning learning the paths?"

Nenni thought that would be most agreeable. After they concluded their meal, they wandered at a leisurely pace. Tinivel told all she knew of the various caverns, the history of their construction, who lived where. She described the overall outlay of the halls. They were vast, but there appeared to be an order to the distribution of the many chambers. She was shown the Front gate, the large throne in Thranduil's hall, the storehouses, the library. "I believe you have already seen the dungeon," Tinivel said, adding, "I am sorry that you were jailed there."

Nenni smiled. "I took no offense. From what I recall, this realm faces great dangers. One cannot be too careful." "How do you recall our realm, if you are from Earth?" Tinivel asked, openly baffled.

"I cannot explain how this is," Nenni answered slowly, "but in my world, this place, the King, all of it is part of a famous story, written by a man who died some years ago. How this man could have known of Arda, I have no idea. I would read these stories over and over, because on some level I wanted so badly to be here instead. They described a world of beauty, wonder, and marvel. But such things are impossibe...and yet here I am. I will be honest, Tinivel. There are many moments when I still believe that I have lost my sanity or that I am asleep and dreaming. It is difficult for me to accept, and I feel all I can do is make the best of it." Tinivel looked at Nenni with great compassion and reached out to embrace her. "You are not dreaming, and I for one am glad you have come."

They wandered until the noon meal, after which Tinivel said, "We must return to the seamstress, and then you must rest. I do not wish to be the cause of your falling asleep from exhaustion during your meal with the King." Nenni wondered, with some trepidation, what this dress might look like. On earth she had certainly seen her share of monstrosities on the Internet and in fashion magazines. The Internet, she mused. Maybe she missed it, a little. And her smartphone. Mostly what she missed was the instant access to almost every form of learning on Earth, and keeping in touch so easily with friends near and far.

What would they think happened to her? Sadly she realized that on Earth, she must be thought dead, or vanished without explanation. Many friends would wonder what had happened, and receive no answers. She knew that she would be asked at some point to explain machines and electric power and light bulbs to the Elves, and she would not be able to answer with great detail. But perhaps it was for the best. Those things, wondrous though they were, had not made humans better. Not when they stood alongside terrorism and poverty and hunger. Better to dwell in a world without those ills, and without the technology. It seemed the Elves had everything that truly mattered.

No sooner had Nenni and Tinivel arrived at the door than Ardethwis the seamstress glided over to them. All Elves, Nenni realized, moved with unfailing grace. "Come in!" Ardethwis beamed. "Your dress is here, on the mannequin, for you to see." She gestured at her creation.

Nenni was stunned. The dress was something she would imagine a delicate fairy might wear. It was a work of exceptional beauty. A russet colored corset was framed at the bardot neckline, by autumn leaves rendered in fabric. Hooks and eyes and buttons on the back of the garment allowed for it to be donned. The calf-length layered silk skirt with a Basque waistline shimmered in tones of sage, rust, deep red and goldenrod. Nenni had never seen anything so beautiful. "This is...for me?" she asked. Ardethwis beamed, the expression on Nenni's face being all the thanks she required. Which was well, because Nenni was close to bursting into tears, and that was before she was shown the matching russet colored slippers embroidered with gold thread, as well as the delicate botanical headpiece wrought of autumn leaves and berries and sheer fabric.. "Come," Tinivel said. "We must prepare you for the dress!"

The dress and shoes were deposited near Nenni's bed. Tinivel turned to Nenni and looked at her hair with a tinge of sadness. "I do not know what to do with your hair, Nenni. No one in the realm has such short hair." It was the first time Nenni had considered it. "Is there a...reason...that all elves wear their hair long?" she asked. Tinivel replied, "Do not despair at my answer, as there is no helping it. Long hair is considered a mark of great beauty among us. None of us would...cut our hair thus." Nenni thought for a moment. "I have grown my hair long before. If it is pleasing to our people, I can gladly grow it long again. Perhaps we can find a way to mask its shortness with Ardethwis' headpiece. But more importantly...are there such things as baths or showers here?"

"Most certainly," Tinivel replied. "Follow me". Tinivel led her to chambers at a lower level. The baths were a marvel. The concept was something like that of a Roman bath, but different in that instead of a large, central bathing pool, there were many alcoves that afforded some privacy. Tinivel guided her to a sideboard of small wooden bowls, and showed her how to select the soaps, shampoos and oils that would please her into the bowls, as well as the supply of robes and soft towels. Tinivel explained that elves of both genders might use this bath, but that courtesy was observed. There was no proscription against nudity among them, but neither did they flaunt their bodies.

The water appeared to be geothermally heated, and was renewed and drained constantly through ingenious plumbing. Nenni thought she might die of happiness. She and Michael had had a heated spa, which she often jokingly credited as being her reason to live. "Tinivel...do Elves...shave?" Tinivel looked puzzled. "Use a razor to scrape the hair off of parts of the body in which hair is not wanted?" Nenni elaborated, with some embarrassment. "I am afraid that we do not, as we do not...we do not have this need." replied Tinivel, who appeared to be wildly searching for a solution to this request. "It's OK", Nenni laughed, "I'll manage. It likely will not be the first custom with which I must part." Though, she thought to herself, this was a blow. She'd shaved...everything...for as long as she'd been an adult. Legs, underarms, even the Lady Bits. Sure, it had taken some getting used to at first, but now she truly did not feel clean unless she scraped herself hairless. Well, she sighed, there are worse problems to face. Tinivel broke her reverie. "I will meet you back at your room, you can find your way?" "Yes, I can manage the short distance. Is it permitted to wear a robe in the halls, or must I change back into this dress?" "The robe is fine," Tinivel said. "And it speaks well of you that you care enough to ask of our customs. I will leave you to it."

The time spent in the baths would never be long enough, and Nenni suspected she might visit here entirely too often. Though, as she carefully scrubbed every inch of herself, she realized that her fears about the lack of razors were unwarranted. There was at best a random stray hair, here and there, and she noticed that with the brisk scrubbing, even those were falling away. While she was glad about that part, she felt deeply disturbed. Was she ill? Unwanted hair did not simply vanish into thin air. Feeling refreshed and scrubbed and scented, she towel dried her hair as best she could, and returned to her room. Tinivel assisted her in dressing, without whose help Nenni would have been helpless against the many tiny hooks and eyes. All too quickly, the time for the evening meal neared. "Galion, the King's Steward, instructed me where to escort you. We should go now. But first..." Tinivel guided Nenni to the mirror, so that she might see herself. While not being overly given to vanity, Nenni had to admit that the sight in the mirror was entirely lovely. She stopped a moment, and a brief frown crossed her face. She seemed...taller? But that was impossible. Tinivel had arranged her headpiece so that to the casual eye, her short hair might not be noticed. "Thank you so much, Tinivel. I haven't had this much fuss since...well, a long time ago." The pair of them walked through the passages, passing a few others that cast admiring glances. They ascended to the upper halls, where Nenni had not yet explored. Shortly, Tinivel paused at a large door and knocked. Galion welcomed her inside, and departed with Tinivel.


	5. Dragonwind-Transformation

[Iavas 49, Imladris reckoning. September 20, Gregorian]

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Gasping, Nenni first caught sight of the meal already laid out on a beautifully polished carven table, as she passed through the drawing room to see the dining area of the chamber. The setting was exquisite, with plates of polished silver and goblets of the finest glass. Every item on the table was a work of art in its own right. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought the goblets came from the Murano Glassworks on Earth. So enraptured with the table was she, that she failed to notice her host in another part of the chamber.

"It pleases you?" A sonorous baritone asked from behind her. Nenni whirled around to face him. "My King, I did not realize you were here. And thank you, for this invitation. Your table, it is laid out so beautifully."

Her eyes sparkled as she looked on him. Nenni had always had a deep appreciation for beauty; and the King was, to use the vernacular, easy on the eyes. He belonged in a painting, and would not go amiss on a DaVinci canvas. Tonight he wore no crown, but a diadem with a single gem set on his brow. His tunic and robe were of fine black material embroidered with silver threads.

He spoke, "The table is not the only thing of beauty in this room. I see that Ardethwis has worked her magic once again. Your appearance is lovely."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Nenni realized, she had no idea if it was permitted to ask him questions...and having seen shades of his anger once, she was not eager to breach protocol. "Nenni, may I call you Adonnenniel? Did you know that it is an Elvish name?" No one had ever wanted to call her by her full name, ever. Yet somehow, she greatly enjoyed hearing him say it.

"You are the King, my Lord, you may call me whatever pleases you." He smiled, and she grinned to herself. She felt she was doing passably well, with her attempts to maintain her words at a high level of civility. She could cuss like a sailor, but out of politeness she always mirrored the speech habits of those around her. There was no coarse language here, and her old vocabulary would have to be celebrated in private.

"Would you care for wine?" he asked. Nenni nodded happily. While it hadn't been on her mind, many a work day on the farm had ended in a bottle of red wine. He handed her a filled goblet.

"I must warn you, it can be a potent vintage." Nenni smiled and raised the goblet, smelling it carefully. Complex and robust, she thought, with tones of oak and berry and one of the smoothest finishes ever to pass her lips. Though she might have generally purchased inexpensive blends out of necessity on Earth, she was well versed in the appreciation of wine, and had sampled some very costly vintages. She smelled again, this time taking a small sip. Her eyes widened. "This is...exquisite," she said to him.

Thranduil smiled, secretly pleased that she knew her way around vintages.

Just then a soft knock came at the door. "Come" he commanded. A fair ellon entered, not so tall as the King, but lithe and handsome.

"Legolas, thank you for coming. Adonnenniel, I should like to you to meet my son, the Prince. This is Legolas. Legolas, please meet Adonnenniel...but I think she might like it if you call her Nenni."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Legolas." Nenni began to hold out her hand to him then paused, looking at the King. "My Lord, the customary greeting on earth is to shake hands when introduced and...I do not know how to properly greet anyone here. I don't wish to cause offense." King Thranduil smiled. "We greet each other thus" as he demonstrated placing his hand to his own breast and bowing. Nenni did her best to copy him, greeting Legolas. "Thank you", she said.

"Would you show me this 'shaking hands'?" asked Legolas, intrigued.

"Extend your right hand toward me, just as I am doing," Nenni said. "I will grasp your hand firmly. You must do the same. It is important not to grasp the other's hand too firmly, unless you mean to intimidate. But not too lightly either, which is a sign of weakness."

Nenni shook the Prince's hand. "Now we release each other's hands." Legolas raised one eyebrow. "There is that much complexity, to such a simple gesture?" he asked.

"You have no idea, my Prince. There are chapters in books, on this subject."

Thranduil smiled in amusement. "I asked Legolas here because it seems you are accustomed to spending time outdoors. Unless you object, I would like him to spend some time with you in outdoor pursuits. There are skills you will need here, that from your description you have not been taught."

"Of course, my Lord," Nenni answered. Aaaand she had utterly no idea what King Thranduil was talking about. "Then it is settled. When Legolas' duties permit, he will seek you out."

"I take my leave now, Ada, Nenni. Enjoy your meal."

"Are you hungry, Adonnenniel?" the King asked. Before she could check her thoughts, she found herself answering: "May I ask you a question, my King?" He nodded in assent. "What do you wish more from me, honesty or congeniality?" Thranduil looked slightly taken aback, pausing before answering. "I would hope to find both in equal measure. But if your question is really to ask, would I prefer to hear the truth over pleasant words, then..." he approached closer to her and held her eyes with his "I wish to always hear the truth from you. Never speak words to me that you merely believe I wish to hear. It is unwise to try to deceive me."

Nenni broke eye contact with him. _Where had that come from?_ She felt confused. "Then the answer to your question, my Lord, is that I am somewhat hungry, but my appetite is dampened somewhat out of nervousness. I...I do not understand why you do me the honor of asking me here. When I arrived, I believe you might have killed me had I behaved differently toward you. And now here I am, in the most beautiful dress I've ever worn, and I do not..." she trailed off, struggling to master her emotions. _No no no no do not have an emotional breakdown. Not here, not now._ She was very close to sobbing, now taking deep breaths as she tried to stop her whirling thoughts.

"Adonnenniel. Come here." He saw her failing efforts to move toward him, and closed the distance between them. She felt his arm around her shoulder, his hand under her chin. "Look at me." She stopped resisting the pull of his fingers. As her eyes met his, she felt the tightness across her chest.

"I must say this carefully, for both our sakes. I have great reason to believe that your coming here was not an accident. In time, I believe we will both discover fully what path you must walk. If you will give me your trust, I will aid you with what gifts have been given me."

Nenni was quiet for many minutes. "My Lord," she said slowly, "In my life I have given my trust, and my love, and my loyalty. I have been betrayed and shattered, more than once. What stands before you was broken long before my arrival in these halls. I do not know if I can be fully repaired."

"Adonnenniel. I knew this from the moment I first healed your body. If you would allow it, I pledge to you that I will do my utmost to heal your spirit."

Nenni froze. This utterly could not be happening to her. A crushing weight spread across her chest, leaving her barely able to inhale. She slowly nodded her head. He released her gaze and stepped back from her.

"Nenni, I am going to ask for something that may be difficult. Trust me. Would you sing for me? Anything at all." He could see her rising panic. "Do not worry, do not think. Take two deep breaths, look into my eyes, and begin". He held both her hands firmly.

 _I wonder if he knows what he is asking._ She stepped back from him so she would not need to tilt her head up to look at him. Just like a performance. Use the Flow. She grounded her feet, she corrected her posture, and with her mind a blur, she met his eyes and inhaled:

 _Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heav'ns sun doth gently waste. But my sun's heav'nly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping, Softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping._

 _Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that Peace begets. Doth not the sun rise smiling, Fair though at e'en he sets? Rest you then, rest sad eyes. Melt not in weeping While she lies sleeping, Softly softly now softly, softly lies sleeping._

She blinked several times, transfixed between her reverie and her confusion. But she felt better. Quieter, inside of herself.

"Adonnenniel, that was lovely. Thank you. Perhaps now we should eat?"

Nenni nodded, not resisting as he guided her to her chair. He seated himself, and began serving the both of them many delicious looking morsels. She felt hungry now after all. "I must maintain decorum outside of this room, Adonnenniel. But when we are alone together, please call me Thranduil. I cannot have you thinking twice about every word you speak to me."

She looked at him and felt the first real smile in months form on her face. They talked, they laughed, and Nenni even told him about King Henry the Eighth. His eyes widened as her tale of the dead queens and sordid deeds mounted. "And you would compare my rule to this?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, your sword DID make an impression on me," Nenni replied drily. The mirth left his face.

"I ask your pardon, Adonnenniel, for my treatment of you that day. We have not yet had time to discuss the events of the world outside these halls. There are terrible forces at work against us. I...I knew you were undeserving of my words from the first moment I saw you. But I had to be certain. I am charged with the safety of all the lives in this realm. I hope you can forgive me." Nenni reached out her hand to briefly cover his. Ordinarily, to touch the King was forbidden, but she did not know. He allowed it. "You did what you must, King...Thranduil. There is nothing to forgive."

They finished eating, and he gestured to chairs where they might more comfortably continue their conversation. The seats were near a balcony with a stone balustrade, one of the few views looking to the outside world in the Woodland Realm. The sun had long set. With a gasp Nenni caught sight of the night sky, and ran outside to see it. Though it was still late summer, the chill of approaching autumn touched the air. "The stars...they are more beautiful here than even the night sky in the mountains of earth." She hugged herself to ward off the chill. Thranduil came behind her and wrapped her in his robe. It was too much beauty for Nenni to look upon. She knew she'd have to look at them another time, lest she find herself once again overwhelmed by emotion.

She took a seat in one of the chairs, smiling at him. Abruptly, the expression of contentment vanished from her face. She began to experience a sensation in her head, in her body, something like the onset of a migraine but worse. "Thranduil" she said urgently, "something is wrong...inside of me...what is happening to me?" He picked her up as though she were weightless and laid her down on the Recamier. "Will you permit me to join my mind to yours?" Thranduil asked. Nenni nodded, her eyes now open wide with fear. She didn't feel so dispassionate about medical problems now; the sensation she felt was truly unnerving. Thranduil placed his hands gently on each side of her head, and closed his eyes. Nenni closed hers as well, if only to stop the room from moving. She hadn't known he could do this. She felt him. Not so much as a voice or as thoughts but as a presence, imposing his calm over the violence erupting inside of her. "Adonnenniel," he spoke, without breaking his connection to her. "Do not be afraid. I am going to send you into sleep, you must rest. I will explain when you awaken." Still wrapped in the warmth of his robe, she barely nodded. Surrounded by the scent of him, she slipped into dreamless sleep.

Notes:

Nenni sings the version of "Weep You No More, Sad Fountains" by Patrick Doyle, from the movie Sense and Sensibility. Except, for high soprano. This young lady's recital gets the point across:  
watch?v=tl_MoPWi7PY


	6. Dragonwind-Confession

[Iavas 50, Imladris reckoning. September 21, Gregorian]

Chapter Text

Nenni awoke to find herself in a luxurious chamber, filled with beautiful hangings and furniture. Bookshelves lined one wall, and the morning sun shone through stained glass windows that depicted woodland scenes. A large desk held what looked to be her parchments and writing materials, neatly stacked on top of it. She sat up, trying to piece together where she might be. That seemed to be happening quite often, of late.

Tinivel rose from a nearby chair. "The King sent for me after you were taken ill last night. It is his wish that I assist you here." "Thank you, Tinivel. I fear I am proving to be bothersome." Nenni suddenly recalled the evening, her clothing...she was now wearing a night-dress. "My clothes, how did..." she flushed. "Do not worry", Tinivel smiled. "You were attended to by myself and another steward. An elleth," she grinned, guessing the true source of Nenni's concern. "Your dress and fine clothes are safely stored in the wardrobe of this room. The King requested more clothing for you, as well. Clothing suitable for both work and routine activities. He said that if you woke feeling well, that you might wish to don the work clothes provided." Tinivel finished by making certain Nenni understood the amenities of the room.

"Your room is adjacent to the chambers of the King. You are to inform me of anything you may lack. And now I must tell the King that you have woken." Tinivel spoke softly, with a reassuring smile, as she left the room.

Nenni did feel well. All traces of the...event...of last night had left her. Not being certain how much time she might have to dress, she hurried through washing her hands and face, and dressing herself. These new clothes suited her, very much. There were leggings of a heavy woven material, reinforced at the knees. They were designed to fit snugly inside of short boots that laced tightly over her ankles. There were choices of tunics that were attractive, in shades of rust and green, with long or three quarter length sleeves. Gloves and scarves were provided as well. In the wardrobe, she found hooded cloaks both light and heavy. Nenni wished she'd had clothes this fine for working at her farm.

She sat down on the edge of her bed. Her farm, she thought. How many days ago had that been? It already seemed like a lifetime ago. Which made no sense, as it had not even been a full month since she'd been torn away. Or was it? She had not thought to ask how many days she had spent unconscious. Her life now seemed to defy belief, and yet there was a sense of familiarity, of belonging. She reflected on last night, about how magical it had seemed. She reddened, recalling her behavior. She wished sometimes that she could be someone else. There was a time when she had been so very good at masking every emotion. She was young then, and used isolation to keep all others away...it was the only means by which she could survive the violent anger of her father. But those walls she'd built had cost her dearly. She was sensitive and kindhearted and was never meant to suffer from constant exposure to tyranny. So as a young woman she'd torn down the walls, and no longer recalled how to rebuild them.

Thranduil. She realized sharply, the position she was in. Hadn't she had this happen before? Repeatedly? She had fallen more than once, for men who'd treated her with caring and charm, only to change later, and it had ended very badly for her. She loved deeply, and the repeated betrayal of her faith in the essential goodness of others had left her deeply scarred. It was at the core of her being to believe the best of others, and to wish for a connection with someone who would appreciate her gifts. Appreciate her, without using her up and tossing her aside like a soiled rag. Michael had treated her so very well, and yet damage enough had been done to that relationship. Damage that cascaded over from the damage that had been done before ever she met him.

Worse yet, she knew that it would take so very little to love the King. His beauty, his solicitude of her...she almost hated the clear foresight that he would draw her to himself, like a moth to light, and that she would once again be laid bare for the taking. To make matters the worst of all, he was likely out of reach, and not in the least interested in her. And he was a King. Kings did not join themselves to the likes of her. She felt a storm of misery brewing inside of her.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts, and she reflexively said "Come in." It was Thranduil, once again wearing his crown, and she hurried to get up. "My Lord", she acknowledged him...yet she forgot to correct the stricken look on her face.

"Are you unwell, Adonnenniel?" he asked with concern, walking to her. "No my Lord," Nenni replied, "I feel quite well, and...thank you." "Then why", he said, "does your face say otherwise?" Oh, no. Never did an animal feel so cornered, she thought. She would not lie to him, but neither did she wish to share her thoughts. The mere thought of it flushed her face red. You cannot betray who you are, she said to herself. You also cannot convict him, for the things others have done. She forced herself to breathe.

"Thranduil", she began. "am I permitted to speak freely to you?" "Yes, Adonnenniel." His face remained unreadable, yet his eyes were soft.

"I am...afraid", Nenni said. "These words are very difficult for me to speak, because I know so little of you. I say this, in the spirit of the trust you asked me to place in you. I am an...empath. I relate to others from a place of intuition. I perceive the emotions of others to an unusual degree. I feel, rather than think, my way through my relationships and interactions. This is not common, on Earth. Since my arrival here, you have treated me kindly. You have cared for me, honored me, and given me gifts of healing that on Earth we would attribute only to gods, if gods exist. You have dealt with me in a manner that feels, seems, as though it may be different than how you would treat most others. I perceive the disconnect between what I sense and what I can understand to be true. And"...she cast her eyes down..."I know myself well enough to realize that it will take so very little to allow myself to love you. I can...I can feel you, I can sense you in a manner I cannot explain. Something troubles you, though I do not know what. Already I am being drawn to you, and it will take all of my will to remain in place. If you bring me any nearer, needing to part from you later will make me wish I'd chosen the judgement of your sword..And lastly, I fear greatly that everything I have just spoken to you is wildly inappropriate. You are a King, and I must be out of what is left of my mind to say these things. I hope you can forgive my words. But...you did say you wished the truth." There was silence. Nenni did not want to look up from the floor, certain that derision and anger would cover his face.

Once again she felt his long fingers under her jaw, gently but irresistibly bringing her eyes to his. She was stunned to see tears on his cheeks. "Adonnenniel. I pledge to you that you will never need to part from me later." He folded her into his arms, embracing her. She reached up her arms to encircle his strong chest, and rested her head to hear the steady beating of his heart. A flush of heat flooded through her, as the thin defenses of her heart crumbled and fell away.

After long minutes, she spoke. "Thranduil...will you tell me how this can be?" He led her out of her room and into his chambers, to the chairs near the balcony and bade her to sit. "Adonnenniel," he began, "I too am afraid. I believe I understand what brought you to Arda, and what is happening to you now. But I fear to tell you, lest the weight of the knowledge, so soon, be more than your mind and body can bear. I fear too, to tell you something that I myself do not fully comprehend. I ask you, I plead with you, to grant me time. I will send for the Lady Galadriel, because I believe in my heart that both of us will need her aid in this journey."

"Journey?" Nenni frowned. "I do not understand. You asked for my trust, and I will give it. But I believe it would help me, if there was something you could tell me, explain to me? Anything? I am lost, Thranduil, and soon I will begin puzzling and imagining the answers I do not have."

Thranduil thought carefully. "Then I will risk telling you this much: The pains and tiredness you experience are because you were never meant to be a human, an Edain. You are returning to your true being. You are an Elf, or will be, once your change is complete. The life of the Valar is entering you. You must remain near to me, because I alone here can ease your discomfort through this experience. And," Thranduil looked intently into her eyes, "I love you, Adonnenniel. Hearing from your own lips that you might love me in return, is as rain upon a desert. This must be so very strange for you. I will do anything in my power to aid you."

Nenni looked at him, discerning that he spoke the truth. She knew it was possible to deceive her senses; but it also was nearly unthinkable for an Elf of his station to deal with another thusly. Understanding could come later.

Nenni stood up, and walked over to his chair. She gently placed her hands on each side of his face, and slowly lowered her head to his. She kissed his brow, and her lips approached his. She paused, waiting for a sign of permission. He reached his arms to her shoulders, and pulled her into his lap. His lips parted, kissing her chastely in return. He ran his hand through her hair, and she traced his perfect cheek with her fingers. "Adonnenniel, it is greatly important to me that you not be rushed, that you be certain of your heart. There is something I wish to give you. It is nearby, but first, would you share the morning meal with me?"


	7. Dragonwind-Offering

Her stomach was still in turmoil, but not nearly as badly as some moments earlier, making it possible that she might be able to coax some food down her throat. Rising and turning around, Nenni looked at the King's sideboard, on which she saw a great vase of flowers that had not been there the night before. She hurried to it, childlike, smelling the blossoms and barely touching some of the most beautiful ones. Some she recognized; roses like on earth, with delicate wildflowers in various shades. She turned to see Thranduil smiling at her, and flushed slightly pink, realizing how she'd just behaved.

He pulled a chair back, gesturing for her to be seated. Impulsively, she reached to tuck an errant lock of longer hair behind her ear, and paused. A look of unwanted surprise came over her face, as her lips parted. Her ear, which she was now feeling carefully, was distinctively developing points. Both hands rose up, to feel both ears. She had always had an odd point on the helix of her right ear, but this was far different. She looked at him, recalling the words he'd just spoken to her, and sobered. "My ears," she whispered.

He looked back at her with an expression of sympathy, and offered his hand to her. Very gladly, she took it, if only for the reassurance it offered. "I cannot imagine how hard this must be for you, Adonnenniel. I am here for you."

He'd asked for her trust, and she'd agreed to give it. She swallowed hard, and nodded. "Le hannon (Thank you)," was all she could manage.

She turned her interest to the foods laid before her, and did her best to be appreciative of dining, for a second time, with the King himself. She was swirling the last dregs of her second cup of a delicious tea when he said, "Would you follow me, Adonnenniel?," rising out of his chair.

"Of course, my Lord," she replied. He held the door open to her own chamber, then walked past her to open a second door at the far end of her room. She'd barely noticed it, previously. It accessed a long passage, at least a hundred steps, illuminated by the soft golden light, about whose source she must inquire sometime. They walked on without speaking for what seemed like about a hundred yards, to reach yet another door. "Would you close your eyes, please?" he asked. She complied, and felt him taking her hand. He guided her several steps, and she immediately knew she was outdoors, the smell of the air and the sunlight on her face gave that much away. She kept her eyes obediently closed. "You may look now," Thranduil said.

Nenni opened her eyes to find that she stood in an immense garden. Immense, but untended. That part seemed to be a bit un-elven, she mused. She slowly looked at everything in her field of vision, then turned to him, asking with her eyes if she might look further. He smiled and gestured for her to explore. She took a few steps ahead, then paused. Nenni turned back to him, and held out her hand to him. He came to her, his fingers interlacing with hers. They walked on, Nenni stopping to look at whatever interested her. The space was larger than anything she would imagine could be in the confines of the Thranduil's Halls, and was bordered on all sides by sheer, jagged rock formations that looked for all the world like the Tsingy de Bemaraha in Madagascar. It had primarily an eastern exposure, she noted, but should still receive plenty of sun from the southern angle as well. Walking along the assorted paths, she realized that this was a space between three and four Earth acres in size, not dissimilar to the most actively utilized portions of her farm. Nenni stopped at last near a stone bench in a shady area, and politely said with a smile, "This is a beautiful place, my Lord. It is fortunate that you have such a garden in your realm to enjoy."

"It is yours, Adonnenniel. In long years, it has not had the attention it deserves. It did not take my powers of the mind to realize that you grieve the loss of your farm on Earth."

Nenni looked up and him and could not stop the tears that welled up in her eyes. This stunned her, to the core of her being. Thranduil took her into his lap as he seated himself, and held her. Any chance of keeping control of her emotions evaporated when she felt his arms embrace her. He softly rubbed her back with his large hands, soothing and rocking her gently until she stopped crying. He would never search her thoughts without her permission, but he did not need to do so, to feel the turmoil in her mind.

For a long time she did not move, and finally she grew quiet. "I wish," she said, "that I would stop bursting into tears every time I am near you. This is becoming embarrassing," she sighed.

"Never wish to be different than you are, Adonnennial", he said.

"You have spoken a great truth, Aran Thranduil," said a strong, musical voice whose owner approached them. Nenni gasped as a beautiful elleth silently walked to greet them. She was fair beyond words, in a gown of white, with long golden hair and eyes the color of a deep blue lake. A small circlet, and a ring, were her only ornaments. Nenni knelt before her, nearly bowled over by the measure of power she perceived. "I ask your pardon, King Thranduil," the elleth said with a warm smile, "for my failure to observe formality and protocol. I thought, under the circumstances, that foregoing the usual...pageantry...might be the better course."

Thranduil rose, and lifted Nenni to her feet. "My Lady Galadriel, may I introduce Adonnenniel?" he said. Galadriel and Thranduil made the traditional gestures of elven greeting, which Nenni did her best to mirror, feeling horribly awkward...something about this method of welcome refused to find a place in her mind.

"How is it you are here, my Lady?" Thranduil asked, with a look of great surprise. "I was to send for you just this day, dreading the long weeks it would take my message to reach you. Yet here you are."

Galadriel smiled. "The same hour I sent my message to you, my Lord, I looked in my Mirror a second time. I departed that same day to journey here, before the approaching change in the seasons could have any chance of making the paths too difficult."

Thranduil gestured for Galadriel to be seated on the bench, and seated himself turned to face her. Nenni simply looked confused, and Thranduil guided her to sit between them, pulling her back close to his chest. There was a pause, after which Nenni said, "I am afraid I feel like an insect under a microscope." She clarified, "an instrument for examining something in the most minute detail." Thranduil and Galadriel both chuckled. Galadriel's laugh was as delicate bells ringing. Nenni thought her even more beautiful than the books could ever have mentioned, because the books didn't mention how it felt to be near her. There was utterly no question, that Nenni was seated before a being of Light.

"I am grateful, Lady, beyond what I can adequately express, that you have come," Thranduil said as he hung his head, betraying for a moment the crushing weight of responsibility he'd felt these past weeks, with regard to Nenni. Nenni, her back to him, did not see this, but Galadriel did.

"Adonnenniel, you must have many questions?" Galadriel asked kindly.

"Yes, Lady, I do. Is it permitted to ask them?" Nenni looked at Galadriel, and also craned around to look at Thranduil. She would not begin this without his permission, she'd given him her word.

His eyes closed, Thranduil nodded.

Nenni paused then said, "Though my wildly emotional behavior of late does not speak in my defense, I have survived much in my own world. I have endured and continued on, even when there seemed to be little reason for doing so." She felt Thranduil inhale sharply behind her, but he said nothing. "I believe that if you would tell me plainly what you know of me, that it would help greatly. I will respect the wishes of my King, if he sees fit to withhold information from me, but do not believe I will crumble irreparably at whatever you might have to say."

Galadriel looked at Thranduil, who nodded in assent, though his expression was greatly agitated. Galadriel made to speak, with Nenni's unblinking eyes fixed on her.

"At the end of the First Age of Arda, thousands of years ago, a great battle occurred, the like of which will never be seen again. The violence of it changed the face of the land. The great enemy Morgoth, one of the firstborn of creation, fell into darkness. The great Powers of our world, the Valar, along with the Edain and Eldar, intervened to throw him down. In his last defense, Morgoth released his dragons. The greatest of these was named Ancalagon the Black. He was immense beyond measure in size, power, and malice." Galadriel paused, troubled greatly on account of the agony that crossed Thranduil's face.

"Ancalagon came upon Thranduil in a position of vulnerability at the fortress of Gundabad. The dragon injured him greatly." Galadriel paused and said very softly, "Thranduil. You must show her."

Nenni turned to look on him. He closed his eyes in utter misery, and let drop the illusion he maintained. She saw the left side of his face dissolve into a ruined deformity. They were deep burns, gaping wounds that were never properly healed, and one eye was blinded. After a moment, he reformed the illusion, unable to tolerate that she should see him thus. Nenni's chest tightened, for she could feel the great pain he suffered, even now.

Galadriel spoke again. "Nenni, you must understand that on that day, Ancalagon carried out a far worse deed, the like of which has not happened before or since. Thranduil, do you have the strength to tell her?"

Many moments passed, and she felt Thranduil take a deep breath behind her. She pressed her back to his body, in the small hope it might provide him some comfort. Thranduil spoke, the struggle to govern his voice being almost more than he could manage. "I was not alone when the dragon spoke to me," Thranduil shuddered. "Ancalagon said to me these words: 'Remember for all your days the price of opposing the Lord Melkor, Thranduil son of Oropher. After this hour will you bear the scars of your defiance. But your wife, your beloved, will perish here today before you with a finality no power in Arda can undo. She will not journey to the Halls of Mandos, but rather I will sever her fëa from Arda itself. For you will there be no hope of reuniting, no solace through the long years of your cursed life. Look upon her your last, and despair.' " He paused for a moment, holding her arm tightly now and struggling to master himself. "As I reached out to her, he consumed her in fire and scalding wind. The Dragonwind left me as you saw."

The weight of these words crushed Nenni, and she struggled to breathe. She could have pondered Thranduil an eternity, and not understood the nature of the grief he bore.

Thranduil spoke once more. "My wife's name is Adonnenniel."

Nenni felt as though she were falling into a chasm. Galadriel moved closer to take both of her hands. She anchored Nenni, who could feel the connection dampening the emotional pain, grounding her, bringing air into her lungs.

Galadriel continued: "Thranduil struggled for countless years, bearing this burden alone and in silence. He assumed and discharged his duties as a King faithfully in all that long time, but not without consequences. If and when he chooses, he can tell you more. A short time ago, in the life of an elf, he had a...transformative experience...that caused him to beseech the Valar for aid. You were torn from your world, to return home to Arda. Elves do not see merely the physical form of a living being, but its spirit, its fëa, as well. In time you will gain this sight. From the first moment you were brought to him, he recognized your fëa as that of his wife. Adonnenniel, your fëa was riven from this world and forced to endure a series of journeys on what you call Earth. The day you arrived, I felt a great power tear the fabric of Arda. I lived, thousands of years ago, and felt the same tear on the day that the dragon stole your future. You have been returned here, with your spirit undiminished. You have already seen that your body is transforming and becoming elven. Eru Ilúvatar himself, the creator, has answered the plea of King Thranduil, because the power to do this could come from no other."

Nenni sat for long minutes, processing this as best she could. Galadriel released Nenni's hands, with imperceptible slowness. Nenni understood now, all too clearly, why Thranduil himself had not wanted to tell her these things. Thranduil.

She twisted around to face him. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in pain. "You are my...husband?" Nenni asked softly. He slowly opened his eyes to look at her. "Yes," he answered, his eyes full of fear as his head sank down once again. So this was the answer, then, to all that she had seen in him and could not reconcile. He had suffered her loss since before there were Pharaohs in Egypt, and now he did not know if she would accept him.

Looking down, she breathed in deeply, and out again. Her path was laid out before her feet, with her heart as a compass. She knew the customs and the words. Standing, she faced him. This time it was Nenni who placed her hand under his chin, raising up his eyes.

"Thranduil", she said. "There is something I must say again to you." Reaching down, she took his hands and held his eyes with her own, as she recited: "Before Eru, I give myself to you unreservedly; my love, my spirit, and my body, if you will have me."

As he reached to take Nenni into his arms, a hoarse sob escaped his lips. She held him tightly as he wept, stroking his hair. "I will have you. I thank the Valar for this undeserved kindness," he said, in a broken voice as tears flowed down his cheeks. His perfect cheeks.

When Thranduil quieted at last, he looked at Galadriel. "My Lady, I thank you..." he began.

Before he could say more, Nenni cried out, gripped by stabbing pains all throughout her body. Thranduil held her, as she collapsed against him.

Galadriel moved in close and laid her hand on Nenni's face. "She is in the final stages of changing, Thranduil," Galadriel said. "May we help you, Nenni?" Galadriel asked.

Nenni nodded, unable to speak for the pain tearing through her. Nenni felt both Thranduil and Galadriel lay their hands upon her face, and felt the weight of both their minds. The pain ceased immediately, and she heard a voice in her mind say, "Sleep now, Adonnenniel. The purity of your fëa is undiminished; I wish you great happiness." Nenni felt rather than saw Galadriel's merry smile as she floated away. The last thing she heard before sleep took her was, "I do not believe she will suffer this again, Thranduil. I wish you the great joy of your reuniting."


	8. Dragonwind-Jointure

Thranduil carried Nenni, cradled in his arms, on toward the door, as Galadriel followed them at a short distance. When she saw that Thranduil had entered the passageway, she paused. She turned around, and embraced all the garden with her mind. Raising her hands, she spoke words in an ancient tongue. Smiling at her handiwork, she departed the garden and entered the passage.

Thranduil laid Nenni tenderly on her bed. He then turned to Galadriel and spoke, still reeling from the events of the last hour. "My Lady, may I summon my steward, to provide you rest and refreshment? Would you do us the honor of remaining, for a time?"

She smiled and replied,"I gladly accept your offer of refreshment. I would speak with you, about matters with which I do not wish to trouble Adonnenniel. Then, I must depart."

Thranduil rang for Galion, and welcomed Galadriel to seats suitably distant from where Nenni slept.

The beautiful elleth considered the King carefully for a few moments, before speaking. Her voice had dropped much of its easy mirth, as she chose her words with obvious care. "Thranduil, you know of the power that gains dominance in the south. All of Ennor, once again, is under the threat of Shadow. What time is left, I do not know, but I sense that our preparations must be swift. I fear that this time, the secrecy of your Halls will not be enough to save you."

Galadriel paused, as if there was more she wished to say, but thought better of it. Once again, she looked directly into his eyes. "Your wife will not always be frail and struggling, as you see her now. Unite with her, against the powers to come, to aid your people to safety. I have left Adonnenniel a gift, which she will discover in her own time. I would ask now if I may have your consent, should I need to send you urgent word, to reach you?"

Thranduil looked at her, digesting her words. While the thought did not appeal to him, he knew she was one of the few who had this ability, to speak with the mind across great distances. His reservations would have to be set aside; it would be foolishness to deny himself any advantage that could aid his people.

"You have my consent", he said.

Galadriel smiled. "Perhaps I may ask if our repast will include a goblet of your famed Dorwinion wine?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. Genuinely laughing, he smiled and invited her to the table laid out for them.

True to her word, Lady Galadriel departed swiftly after their meal. Thranduil escorted her to the entrance of his Halls, wondering if he should inquire as to how she'd made her way inside, unaccompanied, to the heart of his private quarters. No, he shook his head, there are some things best left unasked. So egregious a breach of his fortress would have merited rages and imprisonments under any other circumstances, and with good reason. But had she brought him all the gold in Erebor, it would have counted for nothing by comparison to her gift on this day. Many in the Palace saw the two rulers walking together, through the Halls. Tongues will wag, he thought with exasperation. With a deep bow, he bade the Lady farewell, and a speedy journey. He knew better than to ask if she wished escort or assistance. Anything that attempted to molest her, would come out far the worse for it.

Thranduil returned slowly to his chambers, leaving Galion instruction that unless a dragon breached the Gates, he was not to be disturbed. He poured himself wine and sat down in his favorite chair, resting his boots on the little stone table.

In a single hour, his life had changed forever. The gratitude he felt was bottomless. He would have understood if Adonnenniel had turned from him. This...version of her... hardly knew him. He recalled his actions of the past. His anger, his almost daily tirades, his utter selfishness. Would he ever have offered himself to another in the manner that she had done, on what must be close to blind faith? He would have much to learn from her, he soberly realized. Deep in thought he sat, until the sun sank low on the horizon. He rose up with a sigh, and saw Nenni standing in her doorway, looking at him.

He was living art, she thought, savoring the chance to drink in his appearance unobserved. She reflected on the weight of what she'd done. What idiocy had compelled her to bind herself to a man she hardly knew?

The answer came quickly. Probably the same idiocy that compelled you to bind herself to men you thought you knew, said the Little Voice acerbically. Nenni frowned, and gave a quick shake of her head. Sometimes, if she did not answer, it would shut up.

Had she even needed to speak vows to him? From everything told to her, she'd been married to him for thousands of years, but parted from him. If her fëa lived, their marriage had always been intact. But on some level, she knew how badly he had needed to hear it. Which did not change the fact that this was going to be more than a little strange. This must be what an arranged marriage feels like, she thought. And, many of those worked. And either way...it is a little late now.

It seemed wise to simply stop thinking on this matter, and do her best to show him love. The depth of his suffering staggered her, and he'd deserved none of it. Whatever she herself had survived, he had endured a thousandfold. He stood up, noticing her. She walked to him, opening her arms. He swept her up into his embrace, seating her high up against his chest, as though she was weightless. "I'm not the least bit heavy to you, am I?" Nenni laughed.

"You are not," he said, smiling.

"Thranduil," she said, looking down on him, her expression becoming serious, "Are you...well? This day must have been so very difficult for you."

"I am more well than I have been in thousands of years, Adonnenniel," he answered carefully. "You gifted me with everything that you have in this world," he said. "As I see it, I am in your debt by a considerable sum." She smiled at him.

"I might beg to differ. It is on account of you, apparently, that I have received many gifts that I would consider to be a vast improvement over my former life. Who owes whom?"

They both laughed, as he set her down. As their merriment abated, she looked up at him, wondering what came next. With a flush it sank further in, this was her husband. Were Elves like human men, in this regard? She'd sort of missed that part, in the book Tinivel had given her.

She felt his fingers lifting her jaw as he leaned down to her, and she melted into his kiss. They kissed long, tenderly and deeply. She noted, to her great happiness, that he was actually good at this. Better than good. Of all her pairings on earth, there had been few partners that showed any demonstrable skill, in this regard. It had been long years since she'd been with anyone. Michael, bless his heart...couldn't. After her disastrous adventures outside their marriage, she'd decided that sex was between herself, her fingers, and her imagination. It wasn't worth the betrayals, the drama, and the risk of catching something nasty. She'd given up, and never expected to have intimacy again...and certainly not with such a one as this.

She felt the heady surge of awakening emotions. It was a little slice of heaven. Whether it was love, infatuation, or lust, the sensations were wonderful.

He gently broke away from her, stroking her hair. "Adonnenniel" he said softly. "Are you...certain you want...this, now? I would not fault you, for wishing to delay." She looked firmly into his eyes, while gently moving strands of his hair that had fallen forward.

"Thranduil, I pledged to you that I gave myself unreservedly. I meant it. But I thank you, for offering to be so considerate."

He nodded, smiled and rose. He removed his crown, placing it on one of the carven tables. He removed his outer robe, while she watched, and his boots. And his tunic. "Would it please you to have a bath, first?" he asked.

"If it is anything like the experience I had in the baths in the living quarters, very much so", she answered.

"I think we can do better than that." He guided her to the far end of his chamber, which she'd not yet seen. A bath, that made all the tubs on earth seem pitiful, greeted her eyes. Better even, she thought, than the one in the prefect's bathroom in the Harry Potter books, and that had been something. The bath was sunken into the stone floor, constantly fed with fresh very warm water, like the baths below. The border of the bath (which was far better described as a pool), seemed about the size of her old living room, yet lacked any definable shape, being hollowed out of the stone in imitation of a natural pool...except, what seemed like quartz, or veins of other particularly beautiful stone ran liberally through it. These added color that was beautiful, bordering on opalescent, in places. Living greenery, and flowers that seemed similar to orchids, grew anchored around the edges and in nooks on the walls above. Adjacent to the pool were intricately carved wooden double doors. Each side contained detailed patterns strongly reminiscent of tree canopies in winter. These swung open, to allow a view to the southeast. The stonework above the pool also had the multicolored hues she'd seen elsewhere in the Halls. Above the pool was a chandelier of sorts, made of thin branches and twigs, that reminded Nenni very much of the King's crown. Polished tendrils of wood, reminiscent of stacks of antlers, gave off dozens of points of soft light. It was lovely.

Thranduil watched her silent appreciation of the pool, and leaned down to kiss her once more. Softly he traced his lips down her neck, before his long fingers gently lifted her tunic over her head. He knelt down to unlace and remove her boots. As he stood up, he gently traced his fingers up her sides and down her back, before slipping out of his own tunic and pulling her into a warm embrace. His upper body was as beautiful as his face. Now it was obvious, why he lifted her so easily; he was powerfully muscled. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest. He began to trace his fingers along her collarbone, to her shoulders, when he finally noticed.

"What are these markings?", he asked, fascinated.

"The tattoos? I hope they do not offend you", she said. "I honestly forget I have them, as they are all in places I cannot see without a mirror", Nenni smiled.

"I wish to see them better," he said. He drew her to where the lighting was a little brighter, tracing the vines of ivy and the flowers. "How do these come to be?" he asked.

"It is ink, that is driven into the skin by a machine with many needles. The skin heals from the injury, but the ink cannot escape from the body, and the image remains." She paused. "Some on my world believe that the body is sacred, that it is a crime or a desecration to alter it. I did not agree," she said with more than a little vehemence.

"That sounds extremely painful", he said. "Why would someone wish to endure that?" Nenni's eyes clouded for a moment.

"It is painful. Sometimes it is not so bad, and at other times it is almost unendurable. The pain can be part of why it is sought out. For some, it is the welcome price of transforming one's body, of placing a declaration of one's own identity on it."

"Does it mean something?" he asked, still tracing the flowers with his fingers.

"Yes. Flowers and plants have symbolic meaning. Ivy represents fidelity, or immortality; as ivy does not die. These flowers are pansies, and stand for Remembrance. And a lavender rose depicts love and adoration, for a partner."

Nenni fell silent, as her own words sank in. Who knew?

She reached up to kiss him again, and he lifted her into his arms, returning her kisses as he carried her back to the pool. Setting her down, he began to unlace her breeches, but not before placing her hands on his own, to indicate she should do the same. They each helped the other's clothing to slide to the floor, and stepped out fully undressed.

"Thranduil, you are beautiful", Nenni said softly, thinking Michelangelo himself could not chisel so fine a form.

"You also are lovely, Adonnenniel."

"Even with all those scars?" Nenni asked him, smiling. Assorted accidents, some of them serious, had not left her unblemished.

"There are no scars," he said. "And even if there were, I would still cherish them."

She frowned, baffled. Seriously? Apparently she was going to have to look at herself more closely, but now was not the time.

He led her by the hand into the steaming water, which felt just right...not too hot or cool. He'd filled bowls of different scented oils and soaps, and pulled her gently onto his lap. He began to lather them into her skin, releasing heady aromas of lavender and cedar. His hands worked their way down each side of her back, massaging her muscles as her body sang with delight. He knew exactly how much pressure to use, and where. When he neared the base of her spine, she grasped his hands in hers and turned to face him. "My turn", she smiled.

He did not resist as she moved his long hair to expose his back, and bobbed around to maneuver herself into a better position. Returning the same pleasure to him, her powerful hands kneaded the muscles of his shoulders and neck. She worked her way up to the small muscles at the base of his skull, the side of his neck, his jaw, and then stopped abruptly. "Thranduil, do I hurt your injury, if I touch you here?" she asked, worried.

"No, Adonnenniel, you cannot hurt me. I am enjoying your touch greatly." He turned to her and embraced her again. They kissed as their hands explored each other slowly, carefully. When his strong fingers found her feet and toes she groaned with pleasure. Her feet had always hurt, and there was little she loved more than foot rubs. "I believe I have made a discovery," he laughed.

"You have", Nenni agreed, "but I believe if I remain longer in the water, I shall melt."

Laughing, they took their time drying each other off. He bundled her up in her towel and carried her to his bed, where he laid her down against the pillows. He looked at her with desire, but a hint of hesitation still lingered in his eyes. She reached out, inviting him. "Thranduil, I meant it," she said warmly.

He nodded with a faint smile, and laid next to her on his side, so that he might lean over her to kiss her again. He covered her cheeks and throat with tender presses of his lips, while he stroked her side, breasts, and legs languidly with his hand. At times his touch would be firm and soothing, only to transform into one like the merest brush of a feather. The warmth of his body was intoxicating. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh, gently parting her legs. He stroked her opening, and found her already soaked with desire. Long fingers carefully worked their way inside of her, gently moving in and out, and she returned his kisses with rising eagerness. Tentatively, she reached down and found the length of him hard, and the feel of him in her hand, for the first time, only increased the heat she felt spreading through her body. Nenni realized how badly she wished to feel his masculinity inside of her.

"Adonnenniel, what do you wish for?" he asked tenderly.

"You," she unhesitatingly replied, softly. "Thranduil, you can enter my mind, somehow. Would you do this again, and share what you desire with me?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Sit up," he asked. He placed her on his lap, her legs straddling him. He positioned her hands to hold the sides of his face, and touched her in the same way. "Look into my eyes," he asked. "You must send your thoughts out toward me."

As she concentrated, she felt him. He opened himself to her, sending her the wordless impressions of his desire, and she did the same. Slowly their hands dropped.

He laid her down once again, covering her body with his own, and placed himself at her entrance. Carefully, he nudged her legs a little further apart, to make enough room for him. For a fleeting moment, she could not believe that this was happening. Until, that is, the gentle but steady insistence of his manhood filling her pushed all doubts aside. Her thoughts were not only erotic. The words of her vow to him filled her mind; she now gave him her body, and accepted the gift of his. He watched her, studying her face and eyes in response to his smallest motions. Her eyes shone with gratitude as she welcomed him. He was very careful in his movements; what slight worries she might have had about this encounter were long banished. There was certainly no discomfort; only the promise of even greater pleasure. An involuntary sigh escaped both of them, once he had entered her fully. His member was more than she could have hoped for; he was beautifully shaped and sized, without being over-endowed. And the rest of his male parts...even now she was enjoying the ample feel of them as they brushed softly between her legs. He paused for a time, arching his back to be able to pay attention to her breasts, moving up afterward to kiss her lips tenderly. Her desire for him was quickly gaining, and she could not stop herself from pulling him into her harder.

Surprised and pleased at what her hands were asking of him, he began to move inside of her, which brought soft groans of pleasure. It felt like a fire was building inside of her. "I do not know how much longer I can last, Thranduil," she whispered, desperate now for relief.

With a gleam in his eye, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Do not try, Adonnenniel. Come for me. You cannot know, how badly I wish to feel you."

Nodding, she continued to look into his eyes. As he moved in her again, she said, "Please, more. Much more. You will not hurt me."

A flicker of doubt moved across his face, so she reached her hands to his waist, to guide his movements. He quickly moved past his hesitation, as her desire soared. She needed more time than she expected, in the best possible way. What had seemed imminent a moment ago had flitted off into the distance, leaving her to enjoy the vigor of his body. When she at last could feel her climax building, the strength of it took her by surprise. It had been her experience that "firsts" with a new partner always left something to be desired. Fireworks were what happened later on, when she'd had a chance to settle in with...whoever. But this...a strangled moan was pushed out of her as she twisted underneath him. Every bit of her very well developed musculature locked down on him and did not let go, as spasms of ecstasy carried her along while she held him. Her fingers dug deeply into the muscles of his shoulders, seeking some kind of anchorage against the storm of bliss racing through her body.

His eyes widened in delight as he tried to keep moving within her, and could not. The intense squeezing on him was more than he could endure; the next movement he was able to achieve triggered his own release. She felt the heat of his seed flooding into her, in a way that she'd not experienced with others. The sensation was intensely enjoyable, though she was puzzling over just what had happened, to cause the different impression? He held her very tightly during his climax, as if he would pull her inside of him, were it possible. Very strong emotion emanated from him. She gasped slightly in surprise at it, but then held him just as tightly in return. For her, this was lovemaking with a new partner. For him, something far more profound was at work.

He had yearned for his wife for thousands of years...what this must feel like for him, this act of love...she could not begin to imagine...and she could imagine quite a lot. Nenni might barely know him, but her empathy for him swelled. All the affection and care she could put into her touches, she did, hoping that they might ease some of the long and terrible burden he'd carried. For a time, he sank down against her, collapsed. Her arms held him tightly, while one had caressed his back. Wrapping a leg around his own, she pulled him down onto her. Though she could barely breathe under his weight, it did not matter. She wanted, very badly, for him to feel loved. As he began to raise his body, she released him, sorry to feel him leaving her.

Slowly, he moved enough to lay on his side next to her. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. While there were no tears, moisture clung to his long, dark eyelashes.

She looked at him in wonder. This man, who had every bodily perfection, was her husband. Nestling against him, she found that she only wanted to be close to him. He moved to sit up more, so he could draw her into his arms.

"I want to hold you," he whispered.

Her lips parted. She should have realized, the depth of what he was experiencing tonight. Without hesitation, she carefully wrapped her arms around his neck, as his arms closed around her. "I am here, Thranduil. I will not leave you. I will help you."

One of his hands held the back of her head. It reminded her of how one might cradle a baby. Carnal thoughts were abandoned, as she suddenly felt concern for him. There was sorrow, and fear, and she did not know how to help him. The thought that broke into her mind is not one she would have thought herself prone to consider, but the inclination was unaccountably strong. Reaching out silently with her mind, she spoke to the Valar:

I do not understand or know you...yet. I must learn. If you can see my heart, you know that I long ago lost faith in the gods of Earth. You have shown me great kindness, of which I will sincerely endeavor to prove worthy. I thank you for these gifts, from the depths of my being. Guide me to help this man; to whom you've sent me, and who you have given to me.

It was the closest thing to a prayer she knew how to offer.

She gasped and lurched back from him, as an image flooded into her mind unbidden, the colors exploding inside of her head. Stared at nothing, she was transfixed, her eyes open wide. Her eyes pooled with tears that began to pour down her cheeks.

Thranduil immediately released his hold in order to look at her. "Adonnenniel, do you need my help? Are you in pain?" he asked. He could not bear to see her in distress.

She shook her head and brought his hand to her face. "Inside," she gasped.

He entered her mind again, and saw what she beheld. Telperion and Laurelin flamed into his vision, and Nenni cried for the beauty of them. His own thoughts of sorrow and pain were banished, as they both looked in wonder on the work of Yavanna. The vision brought him peace unlooked for...but not before he caught the understanding of why it was being granted. From the first moment she had read of them, it had been among her heart's greatest desires to see the lost Trees of Valinor. She had carried this wish with her daily, on another world, even through her certainty of its impossibility. They were both being given a gift, and Thranduil could guess whence this image had come.

He would never again think ill of the Lady Galadriel, for as long as he drew breath.


	9. Dragonwind-Exploration

When Nenni at long last spent her emotions, she felt consumed by happiness. Thranduil had proved to be attentive and solicitous; he still held her in his arms. She had arrived in a new life, and had so much to learn about it.

"Thranduil, thank you. You have treated me very kindly." Nenni reached up to stroke his face and hair.

"Do you not expect this from a husband?" he asked with a bemused look. She reflected a moment before answering.

"My life has taught me that happiness comes from not having expectations. If I had them, I could be disappointed. If I do not have them, then I only need to be grateful for what is done on my behalf." He looked at her, wondering how exactly any one from the human world could be this good.

"You are filled with light, Adonnenniel. It is a marvel to me, and you will teach me much," he said. Nenni laughed.

"I am not perfect, Thranduil. There is light and darkness in most people. Darkness lives in me as well..." she drifted off. "It is a part of me best left undisturbed. It is the choices we make, not the sum of our experiences, that determine our course."

He looked at her silently for some time. "Adonnenniel, we are reunited with each other fully now, wed in body and in spirit. It is customary that I bestow two things; a ring, and an epessë. He stood up to retrieve a small box from a table near the bed, and returned to sit behind her. When he pulled her against him, her back leaned against his chest. He reached around and took her left hand in his, and with his right hand placed a work of art onto her left index finger and thumb. It was the most delicately rendered double armor ring, worked of the thinnest silvered steel, in an open pattern that described leaves and blossoms. Thin bands encircled the base of both the lower and middle joints of her finger. At the same time, a band went over her thumb, continuing the same metalwork pattern. A fine chain joined the rings. Many small emeralds completed the suggestion of green leaves, while clear gems that refracted the light created the flowers.

"This is...for me?" _This is the most exquisite ring I've ever seen_ , she reeled. "This is...very beautiful."

"I am glad you approve," he said. "I give you also the epessë Edlothiad." _Flower_ , she realized.

"Thranduil, I thank you for these. Both are precious to me." She turned to wrap her arms around him, beaming with contentment. He held up his hand. "There is one more gift I would give you, Adonnenniel Edlothiad. You are now my queen consort."

He stood up once more, to retrieve a somewhat larger box, handing it to her. She moved to the edge of the bed, to take it from him and carefully opened the lid. At the sight of the contents, her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened.

The gleaming emerald necklace was fit to be among the crown jewels of any royalty. Not just an emerald necklace, there were hundreds of stones, a few being quite large, set into the carcanet that then joined to a collar necklace. It would cover much of her throat, neck, chest and upper back in a lacework of silvered steel and gems. Thranduil removed the necklace from the box and draped it around her neck, fastening it in back.

"This is the Necklace of Girion" he told her. He guided her to a mirror, so she could see herself. She gazed at her reflection in stunned silence, wearing nothing but the jewels he'd given her. This was completely overwhelming...she had been occupied fully with her husband, as a man. He'd made it easy to forget he was also a King.

"Thank you, my Lord," she finally stammered out. Her impulse was to tell him that she could not accept a gift such as this, so far beyond anything to which she was accustomed...but she knew that would not please him. She had to accept whatever walking at his side entailed. _Suck it up, cupcake_ , she ordered herself. "I know not what to say, they are...they are...I have no words."

Her mind shifted, spinning with her imaginings of what a king's consort did, and of her complete inadequacy. She disliked large groups, and while she knew little of what duties there would be, it stood to reason that many of them might require formality. After a month, she barely knew how to find her way to the kitchens, having spent most of her time shuttered in various rooms. How she was to support him, she had no idea.

Thranduil sensed her struggle. "All things in time, Adonnenniel," he said, leaning down to kiss her. Desire ran though her, at his touch, and she returned his kiss hungrily. He carried her back to the bed, becoming equally aroused. "Lie still", he told her. The better part of the next hour was spent in a demonstration of some of his other bedroom talents. She watched his ministrations through the gleam of the emeralds in the soft light, and wanted nothing more. With every new wave of ecstasy he gave her, he tightened and knotted the bonds joining them. As she knew would happen, her heart was no longer her own.

When they were both satisfied and needing no more, Thranduil held her. "Adonnenniel, forgive me! You have had no food or drink since breakfast. Are you hungry?"

She honestly hadn't thought about it, given the magnitude of her distractions. Yet now that he mentioned it, food was a welcome thought. He helped her out of the necklace, and they both dressed. The hour was late, but she'd slept for much of the afternoon. They helped themselves from the trays of fruits and rolls that were laid out near his dining table at all times. Nenni watched him eat. She would never tire of looking at him.

There were armchairs near a fireplace. A large iron fireback with patterns of trees and leaves stood inside, behind the grate. He swiftly kindled a fire that was soon ablaze. They each sat, Nenni tucking her feet up underneath her, staring at the flames. She looked up to notice Thranduil staring at her longingly. She smiled and traded her chair for his lap, and his encircling arms. While she was not tiny, neither was she large. When she stood, she reached his breast. She was of medium build, and stood straight. She did not see herself as beautiful, but she had a pleasing enough form, with shapely, firm breasts that were perfectly in proportion to the rest of her.

She snuggled into the warmth of his robes, enjoying the scent of him. "Thranduil," she began, breaking the silence. "There is so much I wish to know. May we talk?"

"Of course, meleth", he answered.

"The way you join your mind to mine, there is nothing like this on my world. When you enter my mind, do you see everything? How does that work?"

"Those among us who possess this gift respect the sanctity of the mind. I would never look further than I was asked to," he said.

"But what of abilities?" she pressed. "I can understand your language because of you, can't I? Do you understand the languages of Earth that I know?" Nenni asked.

"There are," he agreed, "effects that can be unavoidable. And yes, the knowledge of your speech has transferred to me. For this kind of reason alone, the joining of minds is not something we do...casually."

"Could I show you my memories, if I chose?" He hesitated.

"It...can be done. Meleth, I would fear to show you all that is in my mind. The things that I have seen...and I was not always as I am now. You would be greatly displeased by the person I spent much my life being."

Nenni pulled back to look into his eyes. She spoke very softly, tracing the lines of his cheek. "Together we will find the courage by which you will share these things, when you are ready, Thranduil. It is because you keep them locked away that they yet have any power left over you. I have done things I am fairly certain you will find appalling, and of which I'm not proud. But so you know, there is no place in my mind, no thought, that I would hide from you. I grant you open permission to look whenever and wherever you wish. The nature of love is that when we confront our fears of rejection, and find acceptance, we are healed."

Thranduil looked at her, and could not find words to answer.

"Thranduil?" Nenni asked some time after. "May I ask you for something?"

He smiled "What is it, meleth?"

"I have not seen Beren since I came to your chambers. I should very much like to...and are there horses here? I have not ridden in such a long time." She stopped and started over. "I think I am trying to say that I wish to see my dog and some of the forest, if it is allowed."

"I think that is manageable," he said, smiling.

"But I too would like to ask for something. One more day with you, alone, before I must consider that I am ignoring my duties as King."

She smiled, drifting asleep in his arms, feeling the ring on her finger. "As you wish, my Lord."


	10. Dragonwind-Findings

[Iavas 51, Imladris reckoning. September 22, Gregorian]

Nenni woke into that hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, and did not immediately recall her surroundings. Still suspended in her dreams, her mind wandered high in the White Mountains of California. She experimentally moved a few fingers, to find what they might tell her. As a child, she rapidly lost her vision to severe nearsightedness. With the logic of a child, she feared the complete loss of her sight, and determined to practice for the loss of her glasses...or worse, blindness. This left her with considerable skill to navigate in the dark. Additionally, she trained her mind to perceive objects by touch rather than sight, spending hours with bags of random objects, memorizing their shapes and textures. She felt covers, and the heat and scent of another. Thranduil, she remembered now. With a sigh, she sank back into stillness. She felt rather than heard his rich voice ask her very quietly, "Where are you, Adonnenniel?"

She found his hand, placing it against his head. "Come in," she whispered. She showed him her beloved trees, the Bristlecone pines. She recalled the scent of the dry, high mountain air and its blazing night sky, the chalky dolomite soils, and the bizarre yet commanding forms of these trees. They were the oldest living things of her former world. Her mind moved to the redwoods, towering into the mists of the Humboldt forests, then floor of Yosemite valley. There were towering waterfalls, sunlight blazing on the granite, and the reflections in Mirror Lake. He saw a wooden walkway over a great steaming pool, strange colors of orange and yellow lingering at its edges. Her view lifted into the air, and revealed the unearthly eye of the Grand Prismatic Spring of Yellowstone. She showed the opalescent pools of the Upper Geyser basin, the mighty eruptions of rumbling steam and spray, the elk resting in the pools of Mammoth Hot Springs. He saw the great ocean of her world, the humpback whales breaching in salt spray, and the porpoises chasing the bow of her ship at night. The waters below fluoresced with glowing lights, while a sea of stars shimmered above. Her mind grew quiet, and she returned to sleep. Thranduil held her, reflecting on how much she'd lost. And gained. He meant to ensure her happiness.

When she woke again, they rose and ate. Afterward, Nenni put on her simple clothes. "I cannot remember if I thanked you for these clothes, Thranduil. Such well-made and practical things to wear!" she beamed.

"Enjoy them, Adonnenniel," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I hope you realize, though, that I shall not stop at adorning you in emeralds and work clothes." She giggled...she did so appreciate dry humor.

"Thranduil, where are your clothes?" Surely you must have a closet. Wardrobe. Something?" He led the way to another door she'd not noticed, past his bathing pool. He opened it and gestured inside. "Would you do me the honor of choosing something?"

She stepped into the doorway and gasped. It was expected that he would own a collection of very nice things, but this exceeded her wildest imaginings. This was no closet, it was a small cavern unto itself, filled with finery of the richest fabrics. Walking slowly among the racks, she looked for something in a dark blue, or black and silver, that she felt would show best his pale hair and blue eyes. She brought him her choices.

"May I stay a moment while you dress, to admire these a bit longer?" she asked. He nodded his assent. Every robe, every tunic, revealed artistry and care. There were glass lidded boxes of gems, pins, brooches and rings. Nenni, accustomed to frugality and secondhand stores, nonetheless had a keen eye for finery. She'd just never had much use for it. One could hardly run a farm in a silk gown. She looked intently at the garments, taking note of the styles and colors he preferred, a scheme forming in her mind. Smiling, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

"Adonnenniel, would you like to see more of your garden?" he asked. She nodded, her eyes shining. She would not have suggested it, thinking that he would have to resume his duties all too soon (of which she did not have a clear understanding, except that they sounded tedious). This time, she questioned him about unfamiliar plants, taking note of smaller details and nuances. The land varied inside the sheer walls. Shaded areas, small creeks babbling over rocks, and, small open fields were among the diverse microclimates. She asked which, if any, might be eaten, and many questions concerning the weather and the seasons.

After a time, Thranduil said, "Adonnenniel, may I leave you here for a short time? I have recalled something to which I should attend without delay."

"Of course," she said, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. She watched him retreat, and abruptly saw...something...around him. A shimmering of changing colors, yet so transparent as to flicker in and out of her vision. Turning slowly and focusing on the trees in the distance, she realized that all the living flora had traces of the same. She reached out to touch a leaf, and found that the trace of her fingers did not affect this aura. She'd read that elves could see fëar, was that what she saw now? Walking to some roses, she reached out to touch a budding flower. Recalling a song she'd liked, she sang softly _Nobody knows this little rose, it might a pilgrim be..._

She choked on the words, as the bud swelled open to fully flower. She blinked, stunned. Continuing her song, she touched another rose _...did I not take it from the ways..._

It happened a second time.

Snatches of song poured out of her as she moved from grass to tree, shrub to vine, realizing she could direct them with her mind to surge with growth...and beyond, into decay. The song was not strictly needed, but it allowed for easier focus. Searching out a single sprout of grass, she sang to it as well. She did not stop, and pushed it from a seedling to growth, to seed head, dried husk and crumbled organic matter in seconds. Upon locating a second seedling, she did the same, but commanded in her mind for the process to slow greatly, stopping it as it began to form a seed head. She walked to a vining plant at the base of a tree and focused her mind on it, chirping away. Just as she'd been trained to focus the sound out in front of her eyes, this...mental focus... felt similar. Her thoughts willed the vine to erupt with growth, halfway up the tree, and it occurred.

Feeling drawn to the stone bench where she'd spoken her vows to Thranduil yesterday, she sat, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. She soberly reflected on the meaning of this...this could not possibly be common. Maybe it was beyond uncommon. With little effort, Nenni could think of several ways that this power could be put to various uses, both good and ill. She decided that she would think on this, and explore it slowly, and carefully. She did not wish to tell Thranduil. Not yet. It felt like having a new toy, she mused. She wanted a chance to play with it and see what it did, before sharing. She had said to the Valar, "Guide me to wisdom, that what is granted to me may be used well." It felt odd to be praying. These were not the dead gods of Earth, she thought. They were alive, and powerful, and she owed them great thanks. It was enough for her. She rose up to investigate something else.

She knelt down when she found bare earth, and began scooping it with her hands, lacking an implement. Her body wanted to learn the scent of the soil, the feel of it in her hands; the temperature, the crumble, the moisture. With her hands full of soil, from time to time she would stop, looking carefully for any moving thing. It felt different than the soil of earth. She found abundant earthworms, and some ants. It was rich and dark in appearance, and felt just a bit magical. Come to think on it, there were few insects here. Some bees flew to the blossoms, but no bothersome flies, gnats, or mosquitoes could be seen. She would not miss them.

Thranduil had slightly ulterior motives for his short absence. First, he wished for today's remaining meals to be far better than trays at his sideboard. Second, he'd begun considering the days ahead and how to navigate them. He intensely disliked the intrusive curiosity of others, an unavoidable consequence of his station. He was determined to shield Adonnenniel from the worst of it. Everything had happened much differently than he'd imagined it might...and it had happened so quickly. He shuddered with gratitude, still unable to believe on some level what she'd given him. Legolas. Legolas must come to see him tomorrow, in one of his council rooms. He relayed both messages to Girion, and added orders for Beren to be brought here at once. When Anthilen handed the lead to him a short time later, he brought Beren into his chambers and held the dog's face, touching his mind with speech. He saw the animal's intelligence and, amusingly, its deep well of stubbornness. He whispered to Beren, and removed his collar and lead. They would no longer be needed.

Nenni's thoughts were interrupted by the baying of a dog. "Beren? Buddy!" She called out loudly "Is it my hound dog?!" His eighty pounds of delight raced to her, pinning her down, as her hair rolled in the dirt. She'd long felt that the sight of him at full run was breathtaking. She laughed while he licked her face, crying with delight. He loved to lick her nose and lips and ears, slobbering everywhere. Sputtering, Nenni grabbed him around his chest and rolled him over. The big dog responded to her invitation to play, launching at her anew. Nenni dove at him, pinning him down so she could cup his muzzle and kiss his nose, then quickly releasing his mouth and ducking back when he tried to lick her face. Barking in indignation, she laughed at him and let him have his way. More slobber. She hugged the big dog, burying her face in his fine fur as he panted. She perceived the shadow from behind her, whirling around. Thranduil stood watching, with poorly concealed amusement.

"I believe he has just stolen more kisses than I have had from you in the last day," he said drily.

Nenni laughed. "My lord, thank you for this kindness. We were rarely parted, and I miss him." Rising, she realized that she was covered in dirt and slobber. She hastily tried to brush off the worst of it. Beren, already distracted by the hole she'd been digging, was now excavating it in earnest, showering both her and the King in sprays of dirt. Nenni swiftly drew Thranduil out of the way. "Hound dog" she smirked.

"Adonnenniel, he now has the understanding of speech. I have removed the collar from him."

She recalled this elven gift now, as if out of a fog in her memory. "Thank you, my Lord. Let us both hope that understanding equals listening." _He'd find out_ , she grinned to herself.

"Would it please you that we return to your chambers?" Nenni asked. "I apparently have a great quota of kisses to pay." Secretly, she worried that Thranduil perhaps needed far more time to adjust to Beren, who could be overwhelming, speech or no speech. It warmed her heart to Thranduil, though, that he had done this for Beren.

Thranduil lifted Nenni up, mess and all, and kissed her. Suddenly, Beren erupted in indignant barking. The volume was most impressive, echoing off the garden walls. Thranduil froze, looking utterly bewildered, and Nenni burst out laughing. "Beren, it's OK. He is not harming me, he is my mate now." Still Beren continued to bark. "Told you", Nenni said smugly.

Thranduil appeared to be struggling with several thoughts at once, not the least of which was that the Elvenking was being chastised by a dog.

"Husband," she said, "I promise to make it up to you." Taking his hand, she tugged him in the direction of the door. "Come Beren, let us go find Anthilen. I shall ask for you to be given a large bone, and next time we will play longer. And have proper scratches." Beren brightened considerably and raced on ahead. Nenni felt some relief that Anthilen was indeed able to escort Beren away.

Returning to Thranduil, she formed a plan. She had no material gift to offer, but wanted to give him something. He watched her, his eyes calm and soft. Approaching him, she took his hands in hers and brought him to the bath, disrobing. Beginning with his boots and ending with his breeches, she carefully removed his clothes, placing them neatly out of harm's way. She invited him into the steaming water, pressing him onto the seat. Moving behind him, and pulling him backward to her, she held him and rested his head against her, keeping his face above the water. She slowly stroked his hair, gradually curling her fingers to massage his scalp. Her fingers probed down his neck and jaw, searching for any tension, gently kneading. Appreciative sighs told her of his enjoyment. Attending his shoulders and upper arms, each one was carefully streched and pulled, using the weight of his own body to help her fingers delve deep into his muscles. On each forearm, she traced and kneaded the primary muscles, ending at the hands, where she carefully massage each finger, each joint, rubbing and lightly chafing the skin between his fingers.

Merely to touch him felt like a privilege, so beautiful was his form. When she had returned him to a seated position and straddled him, she resumed the massage of his neck but continued down his spine. Each of his arms she manipulated in turn, to allow her fingers to delve behind his shoulder blades. The heel of her hands rubbed the tops of his thighs to his knees, and her fingers pulled at the muscles underneath. His calves and feet, she touched in much the same way as his forearms and hands. His body was much larger and more muscled than her own, and it was hard work for her...but done gladly. She kissed him softly. "May I bring you wine?" she asked. He nodded, eyes closed. She exited the pool, trying to be as silent as possible. She used her hands to swipe much of the water from her skin, and quickly retrieved his wine. Placing it within reach, she reentered the water.

Nenni remained quiet, not wishing to disturb his relaxation. She sat with him, barely resting one hand on his thigh, and became lost in her thoughts. It was daytime, and the door near the pool had been opened. The wood was beautiful but as she gazed on it longer, she saw that something felt off. There was an emanation of something that did not belong. She reached out to it with her mind, looking at the trees she could see. Her vision had sharpened, and she now had great clarity of sight. The auras she could see at the edges of the trees looked different than what she'd seen in her garden. She wondered if he could see it too, but that question could wait for another day.

"Are you awake?" she asked in the barest whisper. He reached for her, bringing her to him. Only then did she see the tears on his face. She felt the change of mood that descended over him...and understood well enough that relaxation did not always bring the mind to happy places."Will you share with me what troubles you?" she asked. He raised her hand to his face, and she immediately sensed his mental turmoil. She saw the jumbled images of obligation and worry, fear of an uncertain future, pain and weariness. She chose her next words carefully.

"Thranduil, you have borne heavy burdens for long years. I do not pretend to fully understand the weight on your spirit. Your past brimmed with grief, bitterness, and great responsibility. But it is just that, your past. You have not come this far, to turn backward into sorrow. Now you must set off in a new direction. I know this can be done."

"How do you know?" he asked raggedly.

She took his head in both her hands. "Look at me", she demanded.

Thranduil looked at her, blinking. He, to whom nobody gave orders, felt the force of her determination. Her love. Her eyes blazed into his.

"I know, because I am alive. Grief and despair nearly took me, on Earth. If you cannot trust yourself, trust me. If your story weighs down your heart with grief, stop telling it to yourself. We will create a new story. I will yield to your will in many things, but I will not allow you this. Let it go."

Tears filled his eyes and he visibly struggled to hold them back. "Thranduil," she whispered,"you must release your tears. They tell that you have tried too hard to carry on alone, for too long." He groaned, clinging to her, and wept. She held him and stroked his back, soothing him until he was quiet and the dark feelings left him. His breathing slowed to normal. Nenni kissed his cheeks. She reached for his goblet and brought it to his lips. "Drink", she said softly. He took an immense swallow that drained the cup.

He numbly allowed her to guide him out of the pool, standing still while she dried him and guided him into his robe. She seated him in the sunshine on his balcony. "Breathe deeply. It helps. At least, it helps humans." She did have to realize she was somewhat in uncharted territory.

Taking a moment, she dried and dressed herself. Locating a comb, and pouring him more wine, she seated herself behind him. Untangling and combing his long hair, she stroked his head with her hands as he sat with closed eyes. _He would heal, in time._

"Would you sing for me, Adonnenniel?" He asked, opening his eyes at last.

She tried to think of something cheerful, realizing with some amount of chagrin that most of her repertoire focused on death, sorrows, and the unfairness of life. _Oops._ Looking off the balcony in search of inspiration, she saw a tree, larger and taller than many of the others, and in good health. She held out her hands to him, pulling him to his feet.

"The tree, look at it" she pointed, joining his hand to her face. She asked him inside of her consciousness so often, that in two short days it was becoming instinctual between them. A beautiful music filled his mind, the unfamiliar instruments describing a stately, walking pace. Thranduil saw the tree shimmering in her mind as she too looked upon it, and the first note swelled out of her:

 _Ombra mai fú, di vegetabile, cara ed amabile, soave piú._

The song was brief but lovely, and greatly uplifting. His heart eased, and he smiled at her, light returning to his eyes. He was comely even when scowling; but smiling, he was the sun emerging from behind a cloud. His was an excruciating beauty, and it stabbed her with longing for him. He saw, and lifted her into a searing kiss. In a moment he had undressed her faster than she thought possible, his own robe falling from his shoulders. His hands moved over her urgently, as he carried her to bed; he was unrestrained. His need for release with her filled the room, and set her aflame. Her cheeks were burning with heat, she spiked feverishly warm. Caught in the net of this kind of desire, she could become soaking wet with dizzying speed, and she ached for him to fill her. She returned his kisses, their tongues making passionate exchanges between desperate breaths. Half senseless, she was swollen with the need to bring him inside of her.

This pairing was no measured lovemaking, but a primal race toward climax. Feeling her pooling wetness against the head of his shaft, he plunged fully inside of her. Groaning with pleasure and relief, she twisted and tilted her hips-anything to fit better against him, to bring him in deeper. She relinquished all control to his blind frenzy, as he sought release. His grip rendered her helpless as his vigor increased, he had unwittingly pinned her arms to her sides. The heat in her groin grew unbearably; the blood surged into all her female parts, as she felt him harden yet more. She cried out to him with need, and he obliged her, suddenly sending two strong, slower surges that pushed at her insides. She cascaded with him into ecstasy. She heard and felt his own release, her vision going white under the crushing strength of her orgasm. She felt his seed surging into her in pulsing waves. Each aftershock of pleasure racked through them, until all that was left was trying to catch their breaths. She pinned down his lower back with all her strength, unwilling to have him depart from her. He was still rock hard, and the feel of him connected to her, motionless, was another kind of delight. When she was satisfied she'd fixed every second of this encounter in her mind, she released him.

"Better?" she smiled. Thranduil nodded, looking slightly sheepish. "Thranduil. Never think twice, or I shall be offended," Nenni said with mock imperiousness.

"Duly noted," he laughed. His rich baritone in words of merriment was something she intended to hear from him quite often. She'd make sure of it.

They dressed again, Nenni bemusedly wondering how many times anyone could be in and out of clothes in a single day. "Is there something we might eat, Thranduil?" she asked. He rang for Galion, and soon they were served a sumptuous midday meal. Nenni ate with relish, unsurprisingly having worked up quite an appetite. Her curiosity running at full tilt, she queried the King on how food for the Palace and Kingdom was procured. The questions piled on one another. She wished to know about the sources for grains, fresh and dried fruits, meats, fish, and then the manner and location and processing of each of them. He did not notice, as she discreetly placed a plum, small peach and grapes into her pocket. When she'd grilled him for a solid hour, well past the conclusion of their dining, he held up his hands.

"Adonnenniel, you will soon have me believing I am mired in a meeting with my councillors. Grant me mercy from provision lists and supply requisitions." His eyes were merry, and she laughed.

"Well then, there is something I would know that does not involve meetings and councillors. Thranduil, would you show me your sword?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he went to retrieve it. She'd seen the sword and other weapons stored in his wardrobe, but they seemed to her like musical instruments; to touch or handle them without the consent of their owner would be rude. He held it out to her, in its sheath. She felt the weight of it, turning it in her hands. "May I?"

He nodded his assent, and watched her as she drew the blade. She carefully examined it, noting the hilt and blade forged as one, the long grip, the curvature at the point, and the exquisite ornamentation of the metal. Very carefully she inspected the edge, then using a feather's touch, brushed it with her thumb. It was all but a scalpel. Nenni held it out to him. "How is it properly held, please?" Thranduil took it from her and demonstrated, eying her curiously. She held out her arm to him. "Would you hold my wrist in the same grip with which you hold your weapon?" she asked. He again complied. She felt the extra pressure of his thumb and first two fingers. "Thank you, for indulging me," she said. As he sheathed the sword, he watched her intently.

"Why does this interest you?" he asked.

She was quiet for a moment, before she replied. "Because if you would grant it, I wish for you to teach me the use of it. Or rather, the use of one suitable for my person. You will find me to be a determined and diligent student," she added.

He'd not expected this. She was so gentle in her dealings with him, a bottomless well of compassion, and filled with an obvious love of growing things. Yet, most ellith of his realm had at least some training with weapons, though most did not go to battle. "I will teach you, meleth."

"In your own time, Thranduil; there is no great hurry. And thank you, it will be an honor..." she trailed off. "I'd wanted to ask you, my Lord...you must have many responsibilities, and these last two days likely cannot be how our life is lived much of the time. Could you give me some idea of what time I may enjoy with you, and how you wish me to occupy myself when you are away?"

 _So compliant, so bending to his needs_ , he sighed to himself. _Like a glove to his hand._ If only a few of his wretched councillors could have half her demeanor, how much less tiring his rulership might be. And how much less wine he might consume, he noted wryly.

"I can answer that better after tomorrow, if you would be patient, Adonnenniel. I will have appointments and meetings, and will be gone for some longer stretches of the day, but I will return at the very least for meals tomorrow, and will certainly be here once evening begins. While I have obligations, I believe I am entitled to some extra time, to find joy in a marriage from which I have been sundered for two ages of Arda. Are you content, to pass the time in your garden?" Nenni nodded happily. That she'd see him at all, before full nightfall, was more than she'd hoped for.

"Thranduil? Do you recall the almonds you asked me about, when first I was brought before you? If they are not gone, might I have one back?" He paused a moment before walking to a small box at his desk. He opened the lid, holding it out to her. She chose one and thanked him, slipping that into her pocket as well. Not long after, she excused herself to the adjacent chamber for a moment, to retrieve clean clothing. And to transfer her fruits and nut into a drawer of the small desk, before returning.

They spent the rest of their evening enjoying food, wine, and light conversation. His heart felt glad, and she did her best to amuse him. She felt particularly victorious, when he laughed unceasingly through her preposterous rendition of "Myself I Shall Adore" from Semele, making fine use of his ornate hand mirror and circlet. When she finally showed her fatigue, he declared: "Bedtime." He held her in his arms, as she faded into slumber.

Nenni sings Handel's aria "Ombra mai fu" from the opera Serse (Xerxes), a short yet lovely song praising the heart's adoration of a beloved tree. watch?v=MugXdU-h6UU

"Myself I Shall Adore (if I persist in gazing)" is from Handel's opera Semele, and is a hilarious parody of a woman's vanity as well as a showpiece of vocal fireworks for high soprano. The singer performs it while gazing upon herself in a hand mirror. watch?v=dMeAsmsEieQ


	11. Dragonwind-Inspiration

[Iavas 52, Imladris reckoning. September 23, Gregorian]

She awoke shortly after dawn the following morning to an empty bed; Thranduil had already departed. Sighing, she rose and went to the sideboard, where a candle-heated teapot stood, the water cheerfully steaming.

On Earth she and Michael and always started their day in their hot tub. He'd rise first and prepare coffee, and she would doze on a bit. She liked to wait until she was sure he'd gone to the tub, before getting up herself. Reasoning that since she enjoyed some solitude, it was only fair to give him the same. After he'd had time to himself, she'd join him. They'd converse and make plans, or sometimes just watch the antics of the many birds that roamed their farm. Then Michael would leave, to go inside. She'd linger there in the water; it was where she did some of her best thinking. New ideas seemed to blaze down from above, as well as solutions to complex problems.

 _Don't mess with success_ , she thought, and shuffled to the pool, cup of tea in hand. Wanting to enjoy the view, she opened the double doors, situated herself, and began to let her mind meander. Today, she'd make her first serious experimentations in the garden. But before she started down that potentially consuming pathway, she had another task to which she should attend. She hadn't forgotten the idea she'd had, whilst looking at his wardrobe yesterday. _The ellon is a clothes horse._ What he liked, seemed fairly obvious. That he had strong sense of style, and liked luxury, was equally obvious. She smirked to herself, _he's a bit of a peacock_. Nenni missed the big birds. They'd had a small army of them, at the farm. There were times when all the din in hell must have been less annoying, with their nonstop screaming for half the year, but the sight of them on display in just about every corner of the yard...a friend once called them Yard Art. Sometimes they'd be in the hot tub, and some of the tamer males would come to within three feet of them, uncaring of their proximity. Nenni would watch their fans shimmer and scintillate in the morning sun. Anyone who could be unmoved by that much raw beauty, she'd no use for.

Her mind drifted further, remembering their white peacocks. Not albino, white, and their trains were the most beautiful of all. She'd named her first one Dazzle, because, _Dazzle_. Some white peacocks even had the iridescence in their feathers, absent the colors. Those birds were like diamonds, but with legs.

She sat bolt upright. Nenni had no idea if it could be done, but if she drew out carefully the feathers and the fan of the bird, could they make a robe for him that incorporated the exquisite design? So that the train of the garment patterned the train of the bird? It'll be hell, she thought...that would take anyone a phenomenal degree of artistry. She could draw well, but just sketching something that complex, from memory, might well be beyond her skill. And what made more sense, something with a white peacock, or the India blues? Those iridescent colors seemed like they would be beyond the means of craftspeople here, but... you don't know until you ask. It's probably a mad waste of time, and it will take a conspiracy of help...but she thought it would please him a great deal, if she could pull it off. Ardethwis...she needed Tinivel and Ardethwis. She immediately swigged the last of her tea, left the water and dressed. She rang for Galion. Swiftly, the knock at the door came.

"Good morning, Galion, come in please" Nenni beamed at him. 'How are you today?" Galion suppressed his open astonishment. In millennia of serving his King, not once had Thranduil ever asked him how he was. He recovered quickly.

"I am well, thank you, Lady. How may I serve?"

Nenni replied, "Can you sit for a moment? Would you like some tea?"

Galion's eyes bulged. "Lady, thank you, no, I have already had my morning beverage." It was the politest evasion he could manage. He was not eager to discover the consequences of the King returning to his chambers, to discover his steward sipping tea with...he froze, just a little, suddenly catching sight of the ring she wore. Galion knew full well what that might mean, but as no announcement had been made, he did not dare presume.

Nenni smiled at him, oblivious. "I would very much like to see Tinivel here, if it is possible? I'm so sorry to have bothered you, but I don't know who else to ask."

"Lady, I will send for her immediately. Is there anything else you require?" he asked.

"No, thank you. This is much appreciated", she beamed. Galion departed speedily, his thoughts in significant disarray. _Whatever else, she is lovely inside and out._

While she waited, Nenni found a quill and parchment, and did her best to focus. Regrettably, her memory was not fully photographic. She decided, first a feather. Three feathers, actually. She carefully traced out the three main feather types in a peacock train. She didn't know their actual taxonomy, but she'd always called them fringes, eyes, and ends. There were also fringes with eyes, but she'd worry about that later. The fringes framed the bottom border of the fan. The eyes were the most numerous, and had shaft lengths ranging from short to very long. Ends were what graced the top edges of the fan, like open V-shaped accent marks. She managed to execute a passable drawing of those three, plus a rough drawing of the bird itself, when she heard a knock at the door.

She admitted Tinivel, and was glad to see her. Nenni offered Tinivel tea, which she also politely declined. Nenni bade her sit, and quickly outlined the nature of her scheme and inquiries. Tinivel also dissembled well, as she mentally added up Nenni's continued presence here, the exquisite ring that could only have come from one place, and the nature of the request. Tinivel also noticed, as they conversed, that just since the last time she'd seen her, Nenni's ears were looking distinctly elven. Tinivel realized, soberly, that change had come to the Realm.

"On Earth, this would be achieved by a weaver of uncommon skill, or someone who can screen designs into silk. And of course a seamstress to aid in the design and actually make the garment...but here I am at a loss. And I very badly want this to be a complete surprise for the King. Can you please help me?"

Tinivel thought. "I shall take the sketches, with your permission, and make some inquiries."

Nenni added, "I should like to prepare a better drawing of the bird, but they come in different colors...white and a kind with many exquisite colors. I have only the black ink, and no supplies by which to color in a drawing. But perhaps such detail is not needed? And, I have a second favor to ask, if I may. I am going to be working on a ...project...for the King. I may need assorted supplies with which to complete this task. Would it be possible for you to meet with me at this time, each morning, unless it is a day the King remains here? It is also a surprise, and I'd very much like to keep it as quiet if possible. I promise, I will not request anything expensive. Er, more expensive than this robe...and please let me know if there are things I must understand about payment or compensation."

Tinivel assured her that she'd would have more information by tomorrow morning, and departed. Without wasting a moment, Nenni gathered her few fruits she'd secreted in her desk, and searched for an inkpot, quill and writing mat. As an afterthought, she gave the sideboard a second look, and plucked an apple from the breakfast tray.

Arriving in the garden, she took a hard look at the place. Using her materials, she roughly outlined the shape of its border, and divisions to indicate the microclimates. Visiting each site, she paced off and recorded their approximate dimensions, counting her strides as a measuring tool...she'd calculate the distance into feet later. She chose which section she felt was best suited to an orchard, and brought her fruits...this is the moment of truth. She estimated the approximate layout and tree spacing, and chose a spot for the first tree. She breathed very deeply, and pressed the almond firmly into the moist earth, but not covering it. She stepped back several paces, and focused with all her ability on the little nut and what she wished, and began to sing. She held it in her mind, as the nut sprouted and erupted into a tree, the trunk thickening and twisting as it raced toward the sky. She willed strong scaffolds and roots, the spread canopy, and then an eruption of buds that blossomed. Nenni stopped, flushed and breathless with the effort. She felt triumphant. She wanted to push on to the nuts and the harvest, but she thought ahead...she'd need sheets and baskets to hold the crop.

She next selected a place for the apple as she munched at the fruit she'd brought, to get at the seeds. As she chewed, she decided she would try this time to take it straight to harvest. She repeated the process, slowing down greatly as the fruits reddened and shone, and succeeded. She flopped back on the ground to recover her senses, blinking back tears of happiness. This gift enthralled her. She'd loved nothing more than growing things and sharing the results of her labor with others...to come here and be able to work like this was beyond any daydream, ever. _Give or take having Thranduil for my own_ , she thought. She stood, and chose an apple. Always it had been a momentous event to her, the taste of the first fruits. That first bite of fruit from a new tree marked the fulfillment of the years spent tending, training, protecting and and caring. She bit down, and her eyes widened. Sweeter than honey, the crisp and firm flesh set off a riot in her mouth. Her mouth was having an orgasm. The spicy and floral hints washed through the robust flavor, with the merest hint of acidity. This was an apple, and one of the finest she'd ever tasted. She laughed for joy.

The plum was next, and then she gave thought to vines, since the grape was the last thing in her pocket. Grapes required trellising. She thought a moment. There was no lumber here, nor metal for posts, nor wires. But she did have other plants. Searched the areas that had vining vegetation, she saw wisteria, or something very much like it. She snapped off a few inches of growing tip and return to her chosen area. Placing the cut end into the soil, she tamped it firmly. She stepped back and took several deep breaths...this would be the hardest one of all. She sang to it, directing roots, and shoots, and more shoots. She guided them to become a living post, as they wrapped and twisted around and through each other in an ever thickening mass, tender stems growing gnarled and woody. Perspiring with the effort, she sent tendrils sideways to form the trellis. When it had reached about eight feet in a twisting mass, she sent some of it back down to the earth, forming and rooting the next post. She continued on to complete four posts, nearly spent with the effort. The last of her strength she used to thicken and add mass to the entire living structure. Falling to her knees, she flopped down on the sunny grass, exhausted.

She allowed herself to relax and doze, for the better part of an hour, finally rising. She reviewed her work, shaking it as hard as she could, and it would not budge; it should be enough to support eight trained grapevines. And it just so happened, that was the precise number of grapes on the bunch she'd taken. Each grape she shoved into the soil, like before. She knew she had no strength left to command, and left them be. She tottered to where she had seen the roses, most grateful that the stems snapped easily in her hands. Returning to her chamber, she tucked her sketches into a drawer. She stripped off the underclothes she'd soaked through with perspiration, determining to set them to dry in a far corner of the room. Still gross, even in Middle Earth. She'd dry and re-use these until they were truly unsuitable. Otherwise, she'd be generating a suspicious amount of washing. Grinning from ear to ear, she thought, _you can take the farmer out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the farmer._

Thranduil met with Legolas that morning, privately, where they would not be disturbed by the nobles and councillors determined to claw for his attention on various matters like a pack of starved wolves.

"Ionneg, good morning. I have...far more to discuss with you, and not much time. Did the news of Lady Galadriel's visit reach your ears?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, Ada."

It figures, Thranduil thought. "She met with Adonnenniel and I, in my private chambers. She...guided...the conversation by which Adonnenniel was told...everything. Nothing was spared. It was difficult in the extreme, and painful, for Adonnenniel to hear." He paused, breathing deeply.

"After her initial shock subsided, Adonnenniel stood, and faced me. She asked me if I was her husband, which I affirmed. And then, unbidden, Adonnenniel declared vows to me before Eru. She wished me to understand that in spite of all that has happened to her, in spite of her scarcely knowing me in this form, she accepts me. We have reunited, spirit and body. I have been given a gift beyond measure, Ionneg." Legolas saw his father struggle to govern his emotions.

"Ada", Legolas said, rising to embrace him, "I am joyous for you both. The Valar have blessed you greatly."

"Ionneg, I not only wished to tell you of my joy, but to ask your counsel and aid. Adonnenniel will need time to adjust to many new things. A changed body, the bonds of marriage, life in the Realm, a new world. It would be an intimidating task for anyone. She does not yet fully understand the extent to which...everything about her... will make her an object of gossip and curiosity to all the Palace, and beyond. She is extremely intuitive, and cannot suffer being made to feel that she is some sort of spectacle for the entertainment of others." He continued, his voice growing colder and more forceful.

"I will not allow her to be...traumatized...unnecessarily by idle curiosity. I will declare to all that she will not be mobbed, nor made to feel uncomfortable. No staring, no pointing, no whispers in the passageways. I find she is in the company of more than three other persons without it being her explicit wish, my... displeasure... will be very great. She is to be treated with the utmost respect and courtesy, treated as they would treat me. The only question is, do I achieve this by making a personal formal announcement in the Great Hall, or do I send this through the authority of the councillors and let the gossip network of this Palace do its usual work?"

Legolas reflected for some moments. "Ada, when the chime rings for the midday meal, appear in the Great Hall. I will instruct the Steward to ring the bell sequence calling all to hear a declaration at the next mealtime. I will stand at your side. By this it will be understood that our family unites on this matter, and that it is beyond question or discussion. It has been long, since you have spoken thus. The message will be clearest, and have the greatest impact, if you do this." Legolas added, bemused, "I believe I can say with accuracy that within an hour, the farmers at the outer reaches of the Realm will have heard the news."

She freshened her appearance and donned clean clothes, and tottered over to the balcony to think. She heard the faint sound of the timekeeping chimes, but had no hunger. Nor was she remotely likely to wish to leave these rooms alone. She felt ragingly thirsty, having forgotten to bring her flask outdoors...she wouldn't make that mistake twice. After guzzling all the water she could stomach in a completely un-queenly manner, she flopped back into a chair. She sat quietly for long minutes, taking joy in her morning's work, when a knock was heard at the door. _Figures_ , she thought, and rose to open it.

To her surprise, it was Legolas. "Good afternoon, Nenni", he said warmly. Ada wished me to tell you that he cannot return to eat a midday meal with you, he is very sorry. He asked if I would take you riding, if that would please you?" Nenni's mind crowded with thoughts, the two most predominant being _I so want to go but I'm dead tired_ and _how incredibly sweet that Thranduil remembered what I'd asked._

She thought a moment and replied. "I very much wish to go, but I should first tell you something. My last time on a horse, many years ago, ended in a serious accident. It was...a regrettable experience. I have always wished to ride again, but...I did not. As much as it embarrasses me to say this, I believe the only way I can safely manage is to be on the same horse with you." Nenni said, red-faced. "I apologize for my incompetence," she added.

"It is not a difficulty at all," Legolas said warmly "and thank you for confiding in me. Shall we?" She willed her legs to follow him through the winding halls, passing parts of the Palace she'd not yet seen; what appeared to be training yards, and courtyards. Legalos noted, to his extreme satisfaction, that the King's declaration seemed to have worked to marvelous effect. Nobody gave the least indication that they were even noticed, though Nenni's gray eyes and deep red hair made her very easy to identify.

They came to the stables, which housed a fair number of horses. She smiled, to smell the familiar bouquet of straw and hay, leather, and manure. She'd missed this badly, she realized. He introduced her to Féla, his steed. "He is beautiful, Legolas. Look at his fine conformation, and his beautiful coat." Féla turned to look at her. Her eyes flew open. "Does he...understand my words?" she asked breathlessly. Féla turned further toward her, bobbing his head. Nenni automatically brought her nose to his, breathing his air while she breathed hers. She had always done this. It was how they greeted each other, and seemed only polite. "May I touch you?" she asked the horse. He brought his nose up under her partially outstretched hand, in reply. She blinked back tears, stroking his muzzle. _There is so much here that is utterly wonderful_ , she thought.

Legolas watched her, seeing her to be exquisitely sensitive, and kind. Ada was right to protect her.

She was indulged to groom Féla for a time. She found extra energy in her happiness, thankfully. Legolas asked the animal to follow them out, and Nenni faced the first hurdle. Flushing, she confessed, "I'm rubbish at mounting without a block or stirrups. The only way I can get up there without a hoist is if you give me a leg-up." Legolas looked confused, and she demonstrated the technique. She sincerely hoped she would not kick Féla in clumsiness. She twined her left hand in his mane and was tossed upward, managing to settle with more grace than she'd expected. That could have been a lot worse, she mused. Legolas sprang up behind her. Féla never even twitched. "I wish I could learn that", she muttered.

Legolas laughed. "You shall. Do not be anxious, we will aid you to train your body."

She tried to remember her seat, and relax. She knew Legolas would not let her come to harm. "Please instruct away, Legolas. Pretend I have never done this." They walked off. Out of habit, she kept her heels down, and rested her right hand on her thigh. It seemed wise to keep a handhold on the mane, though. Nenni gazed in awe at the forest, and the auras she saw around the trees and plants. There was still beauty, even though something still felt wrong here.

"Legolas, why do the woods feel...not as they should or could be? I know nothing of the world outside of the Halls." Legolas told her of the troubles, though not in great detail. "How long ago was the Battle of the Five Armies?," she asked. "It was in the year 2941, of the Third Age. We are now in year 3013."

Nenni couldn't say why, but she'd memorized some of the dates from the books. She remembered that the events of the War of the Ring began...five years from now. _In spring, 3018, Gandalf will tell Frodo to remove the Ring from the Shire_ , she intoned her head. She swallowed hard. Did her knowledge of their timeline matter? What if it was wrong? She kept silent. It was unwise, to impart information that might not be accurate.

"Legolas, how are people fed here, in times of war?"

"Always our Realm has contended with that; Ada calls it One of His Many Headaches. Our Realm does raise some food, and we have much space in which to store it, but trade can affect our supplies. We trade for much...too much. In times of peace there is always plenty, but always Ada and those charged with this duty struggle to increase our stores against times of trial." Nenni's eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing.

Legolas patiently answered more questions, and Nenni tried not to ask too many. Legolas asked the horse to trot and canter, pleased that Nenni largely sat very well and seemed comfortable. They returned, whereupon Nenni found a severe and entirely expected case of Saddle Jelly Legs. _Wait until tomorrow_ , she groaned to herself. Legolas insisted on escorting Nenni back to her chamber. She thanked him, then paused. "Legolas, I am still struggling to learn many things here. But you...you are my family now. Where I come from, family hug each other upon greeting and parting. May I hug you, if it would not displease you?"

"Of course," he said.

Nenni reached up to hug him warmly, explaining to him that he should simply return the embrace. She smiled and said,"I very much look forward to knowing you better."

As Legolas took his leave, it occurred to him that however odd the events surrounding Nenni were, that he'd been shown affection by his mother, or at least an aspect of her. He was content, and certain that he'd enjoyed her company greatly.

"Always our Realm has contended with that; Ada calls it One of His Many Headaches. Our realm does raise some food, and we have much space in which to store it, but trade can affect our supplies. We trade for much...too much. In times of peace there is always plenty, but always Ada and those charged with this duty struggle to increase our stores against times of trial." Nenni's eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing.

Legolas patiently answered more questions, and Nenni tried not to ask too many. Legolas asked the horse to trot and canter, pleased that Nenni largely sat very well and seemed comfortable. They returned, whereupon Nenni found a severe and entirely expected case of Saddle Jelly Legs. _Wait until tomorrow,_ she groaned to herself. Legolas insisted on escorting Nenni back to her chamber. She thanked him, then paused. "Legolas, I am still struggling to learn many things here. But you...you are my family now. Where I come from, family hug each other upon greeting and parting. May I hug you, if it would not displease you?"

"Of course," he said. Nenni reached up to hug him warmly, explaining to him that he should simply return the embrace. She smiled and said,"I very much look forward to knowing you better."

As Legolas took his leave, it occurred to him that however odd the events surrounding Nenni were, that _he'd been shown affection by his mother,_ or at least an aspect of her. He was content, and certain that he'd enjoyed her company greatly.


	12. Chapter 12

[Iavas 52, Imladris reckoning. September 23, Gregorian]

"In times of peace there is always plenty, but always Ada and those charged with this duty struggle to increase our stores against times of trial."

Legolas' words would not leave her mind. She understood, intellectually, that if all she did was aid the comfort and well-being of the King, she was contributing to life in the Realm. But she had just heard of a real problem, and an important one. What if she could give her husband a practical gift, as well? She still felt...resistant...to share her newfound ability with him. She wanted desperately to explore the full understanding of what she could do, alone. It had nothing to do with Thranduil, it was just...her. She had always followed the guidance of her impulses and ideas.

If in the pursuit of her own passions, she could relieve her husband and King of a great burden, what was the harm? And...while it is true that she believed the future was likely always in motion, and not fixed, she alone knew that there were only five years to prepare for what could be a long devastation. Wars could bring the ruin of any ability to produce food for years. Stores and seed lots could be destroyed, food animals slaughtered, orchards hacked down and burned. What then? The timeline of Arda in which she found herself was also a match of the timeline that she understood to have occurred. If the books were right about this much, why believe that they were inaccurate about this future? There was little mention of the Woodland Realm. She knew that Legolas would depart to join the Fellowship. And she recalled that there would be an assault on this land. The forest would burn, but the King would prevail. _This is like the story of Joseph in Egypt_ , she mused. _He had seven years' warning to prepare for a terrible famine, and his prudence saved his people._ She had been given a tremendous gift. And the only real talent she had brought with her, that seemed to apply to his world, was that she knew how to raise abundant food. She had a sound understanding of what volumes of diverse foods she could produce on a given area of land. But with a gift to raise entire crops to maturity, inside of a minute? In command of her garden, she was a food supply. She also needed time, in which to create it. To prove its merit.

She felt sore and beyond exhausted, and she needed to be in a fit state to greet her husband. The sky was dimming in the east; it could not be far from dusk. Quickly she bathed, so that she would not smell of horse for him, scrubbing at her hair as well. She hadn't been paying attention, but, it occurred to her that it was at her shoulders now, much longer than it should have grown in the time that had passed. It seemed, her elven body really wanted long hair. She noted too, to her immense satisfaction, that her body hair had fully disappeared, and she was entirely pleased to be rid of it.

Sobering, she realized that she would be a center of attention at some point, and that she needed to be an asset to Thranduil. That had to include her appearance. She could no longer afford to live all her days in ragged working clothes and breeches. He dressed beautifully, and she would have to manage to do far better. She rooted around in her wardrobe, remembering that Tinivel had said there were nicer dresses there. She found a deep purple one, with a pattern of silver leaves on it. There were slippers to match, and she tied a scarf that complimented the color around her damp hair, after she'd combed it. She laughed, she was being a 1950's housewife about this. But if it pleased him, it was worth it...just thank the powers that she didn't have to sit in something like this all day long.

With a start, she recalled her Peacock Drawing Project, and busied herself with that. When she heard the outer chamber door open, she hurriedly put her papers away.

His back was turned to her, as he organized a small stack of papers. "Welcome home, Thranduil", she said softly. He turned to her, his expression one of weariness. "Good evening, Adonnenniel", he greeted her warmly and held his arms open. She went to him.

"I missed you, husband. I hope your day was not too...too," as she failed in her search for a suitable adjective. He laughed. "Regrettably, meleth, it was extremely too."

She watched him remove his crown, not wishing to intrude. Awkwardly, she realized that he'd arrived to these chambers each evening, for thousands of years, before her. Surely he had routines. She recalled from her own life, finally arriving home after a long day at work and wishing to do nothing but...ah.

At the sideboard she poured him wine, and brought him the goblet, offering it to him silently. He took it with an expression of gratitude. She sat near him and let him be, keeping busy inside her own head. "Have you eaten, Adonnenniel?" he asked without looking at her.

"No my Lord, I wished to wait for you." He rose up and rang for Galion. Returning, he held out his hand to her.

As they ate in silence, he remarked "You are quiet this evening, Adonnenniel."

"I thought perhaps you had heard enough words today, from others. I...remember what coming home from a tiresome day at work is like. I do not know what best pleases you. Wine, silence, food, conversation, staring at the ceiling. All of them are better than tedious work."

"The sight of you is pleasing," he said. "You look lovely tonight. And it would please me as well, to hear of your day."

She told him of her ride with Legolas, and indicated the few roses she'd picked in the garden...carefully deflecting further conversation about that locale. She didn't know why, but it felt awkward suddenly, to be near him. She still knew so little of him, and in his silence he was unreadable to her. They left the table, and he noticed her almost stumble. "What is wrong, Adonnenniel?"

"The horse, my Lord. I am paying the price for long years out of the saddle."

He scooped her up in his arms. "Why did you not say something to me sooner?"

"It did not occur to me. And, I did not wish for you to return here, and have to fuss with me after a long day."

He sat on the bed, cradling her. "Adonnenniel, fussing with you is the ONLY thing I looked forward to, after a long day." She laughed.

"Did I understand incorrectly?," he asked. "I'd thought you'd ridden a fair amount."

"I did, once." Her voice dropped. It was still an ugly memory that she'd already relived far too many times, unable to rid herself of its hold over her. "There was an accident, and I stopped riding. It was...unpleasant."

"Tell me of this," he said. She sighed and brought his hand to her face. "Please, this is easier for me." And she showed him, her ride on the beautiful and powerful black horse. How it ran and ran around the track, unstoppable, when she had never learned an emergency dismount. How her strength eventually gave way, and she was flung into the fence at full gallop. Her broken back, the pain, the weeks of nightmares; and how ashamed she was of herself for never working past this, when she'd loved horses more than anything.

"And now you know," she said quietly.

Thranduil held her close, before placing her back against the pillows. He went to retrieve a small bottle and a bowl. "Drink this," he said, offering her the bottle. It tasted rather like what she remembered from the healer's hall. He raised her dress, and rubbed a salve into her thighs.

She began to feel better inside of a minute. "Please don't laugh at me, but I keep forgetting that there is no need to suffer here."

"You are exhausted, Adonnenniel, though you hide it well." _Oops._ _Going to have to be very careful, to get anything past him_ , she thought ruefully.

"I didn't mean to be, it just sort of happened," she said.

"You should rest", Thranduil said.

"But I want to stay with you. I haven't seen you all day," Nenni protested.

"You can have both things at once, meleth." He undressed her gently down to her undergarments, and undressed himself. Returning to the bed, he took her back into his arms, cradling her again.

"Thranduil?" she murmured. "Yes, meleth?"

"I love you." She fell asleep in the next heartbeat.

"And I love you, dearest one. More than you will ever know."


	13. Chapter 13

[Iavas 53, Imladris reckoning. September 24, Gregorian]

Nenni felt quite renewed the next morning, but grieved to have had so short a time with Thranduil... _which is your own damn fault, idiot._ She'd overdone it badly yesterday, and if any of her plans were going to succeed, that had to change immediately. Flying out of bed, she realized she had limited time before Tinivel arrived. She bypassed her session in the hot water, in favor of being dressed and prepared for the visit. She made sure to choose the clean working clothes, not the already soiled ones she intended to make use of a second time. It would not do, to have anyone suspecting the magnitude of what she had in mind out there. She went to the sideboard, then her chamber, to retrieve her drawings. She sipped her tea in the drawing room, examining her work. It was realistically the best she was going to manage, without much finer art supplies. A knock announced the arrival of Tinivel...and Ardethwis, plus two other new faces.

"Good morning, everyone please come in!" Nenni beamed. Gesturing for them to be seated, she offered everyone tea, only to be politely declined. Nenni was oblivious to the protocol of the King's household, but to an elf they found her kindness most endearing.

Tinivel began, "Lady, I have described your wishes to Ardethwis, who you know. Ainion and Istuion are weaver and textile artist, respectively." Each nodded their heads in turn, at the mention of their names.

"I am Nenni, and am very pleased to meet you", she said, this time managing to execute a passable elven gesture of greeting.

Istuion began: "We have created wardrobe items for King Thranduil for many years, Lady, and we believe that we can carry out your request. Tinivel described that you had two concept designs in mind for the King's robe. Would it please you that we attempt both of them?"

Nenni nodded eagerly, "That is more than I could have hoped for, thank you!" she said, giving them a dazzling smile. "I worked on yet another drawing, which I am afraid is the limit of my skill. I had hoped to have a way to indicate colors to you, before discussing how I'd imagined the robes to look..." she trailed off.

Istuion interjected "Ainon has a color palette, Lady. Ardethwis has kept careful records of the King's measurements, and I am able to create numerous designs on fabric, however detailed. I confess," his eyes shining with eagerness, "this is greatly exciting for us, both for the novelty of the project as well as its difficulty. Please, we are ready to hear your wishes."

Nenni felt giddy. _This could actually happen_ , she thought. She commenced by directing them to her initial drawings, indicating carefully the distribution of colors on all the parts of the bird's feathers: turquoise, two shades of green, copper brown, midnight blue. She told also of their iridescent properties, and how the colors would shift and shimmer in the sunlight. Next described the body colors of the bird: the fine half disks of pale green rimmed with black, the teals and royal blue of the body. Lastly, she carefully explained the bird itself. "They are proud, very dignified creatures, with imperious yet gentle manners. Their movements are elegant and measured. Mostly they dwell on the ground, though they are capable fliers." She next submitted her new drawings, which included a detailed sketch of the head, and the crest that crowned him in sapphire blue.

"In my...from where I come, at one time these birds were kept by only royalty and nobility. What I imagined was a robe, designed so that the train pattern of the robe is in imitation of that of the bird with its full display, with the cloth that trails on the floor appearing as the fan. And that as the pattern ascends the train of the garment, that it takes the image of the bird, standing with its rear to the viewer, but elegantly turning its neck to look backward, with a side view of the head.

For a second design, I imagined the white train of the bird, over a background of black or other suitably dark color. But instead of featuring the entire animal, that the tracings of the feather structures would be an accent that bordered and subtly graced the remaining fabric of the garment, while also perhaps allowing for a patterning in the fabric so that it was not strictly a solid color.

And...I may be completely delusional on this last notion, but I also wondered whether it would be possible for a brooch to be made for the King, in the form of the end of an eye feather, fringe included, to be a closure at the neck. The colors of this eye would be created with appropriate gemstones, and fine metalwork of silver or gold tone would depict the fringes and provide the setting...I'm sure others know his preferences better than I. It could be worn with either garment. And, I sincerely hope that I've made some sense describing this."

The three textile masters looked like delighted children, as Nenni noticed them furtively glancing at each other and smiling and nodding discreetly.

Estuinon and Ainon took their leave, promising to return quite soon with drawings for her review. Tinivel remained. "Do you have any requests, Lady?"

Nenni laughed. "Yes, the first of which is that I would like you to call me Nenni, unless you strongly object. I realize things have...changed for me...but I am the same person as when first we met. Let's not drown ourselves in formality...at least not when the King is absent. You are my first friend here, and I do not want needless distance between us.

And, I did have a small list...is it possible to acquire a large piece of cloth for sturdy use? Something like canvas? The dimensions given on this parchment would be ideal, but honestly anything approaching that size would be functional. And if it is used and soiled, so much the better, as long as it is mended of any very large holes. I would also like cordage or thin rope, as close to the length indicated as possible. It also may be used, repaired, or knotted. In fact, the worst, most used-up and worn specimens you can find would be the most suited to my needs. And last...I require some kind of pouch, something that can attach to my belt, and be closed shut without crushing its contents.. It should be largely moisture-resistant, and at least slightly rigid, like something lined with oilcloth, so that damp items placed inside stay moist."

"Of course, Nenni. I shall see to these and return with them as soon as I may. "

"Actually...it would be better, if we only exchanged items I've requested at our morning meetings. That eliminates more possibility of others wondering what I'm up to," she said, with her best mischievous smile, winking.

"Then I take my leave, until tomorrow...Nenni, " Tinivel smiled.

Nenni returned to her chamber, swiftly changing her clothing. The thought of a bath had lost its appeal, so eager was she to return to work...with modifications. She determined that in order to avoid a repeat of last night's debacle, that she must stop work earlier in the day, and that if she was to be with Legolas, she needed to schedule it at least a day ahead. She should rest for at least two hours, sleeping or lying down, to recover before Thranduil's return.

Entering the garden, her first priority was the examination of the grape seeds. She found, to her pleasant surprise, that they had germinated; the small vines already reaching to the trellis. _So growth can accelerate in here on its own, even without me_ , she mused. _Good to know_.

She felt she needed to do more walking and thinking, before proceeding further. There had been no new fruits at the sideboard this morning, and it would not be until tomorrow that she would have the cloths from Tinivel with which to catch the nuts. The apples needed picking, but that also could wait. So she idly strolled, inspecting the bordering walls more carefully, noting on her drawings where water sources and creeks ran. She also filled in more data on the plants she recognized, and in which microclimate she found them. Meandering along the southern wall, something caught her eye. Soil mostly covered what appeared to be steps, descending into a mass of vines that grew over the alcove. It was extremely easy to miss.

She'd need to shift the vines to examine it further, but these were very thick, and she had no knife. _That needs to be remedied immediately_ , she thought. An idea popped into her head. _At the end of growth is...decay._ She stood back again, focusing on the vines; by her will they withered, died, and utterly decayed. It had worked. The blockage was now as spider webs, easily brushed out of the way by her hands. They were indeed steps, and they descended to...a heavy door. _How long had this lain here forgotten, and where did it lead?_ She tried the latch. It was extremely difficult to budge, but her body was now significantly stronger, and more agile, than before. She mused, she might be stronger now than poor Michael was. Sobering, she wondered what the strength of Thranduil must be.

With a final shove, the door revealed yet another stone passageway. This was not lit by the mysterious lamps, but rather by daylight. And if the door's condition was any indication, it had long passed from memory. The passage led straight ahead and downward; the walls curving gently left. She eventually beheld a lovely sight...the stone wall had been opened to the outside air, under the cascade of a broad waterfall. There was a broad and surprisingly dry shelf at waist level, wide enough to safely sit. She'd need to make a special effort, on some future day, to behold the sunrise here. Done admiring the mesmerizing water for now, she continued on, eventually arriving at a second door. Having been sheltered from the elements, this door moved with far less resistance. She stepped out into a large room, quietly closing the heavy portal behind her. This was some part of the caverns, an unadorned and vast space. The rock domed high above her, and she noticed that it seemed built for...storage. Walking on, she noticed an ellon deeply engrossed with a stack of papers.

"Hello," she said tentatively, not wishing to startle him. "I am Nenni", she said with her usual bright smile. Please, where am I?"

Startling him happened, regardless of her wishes. "Lady," he said, recovering himself. "You find yourself in the storerooms of the Woodland Realm. I am called Erudan." They exchanged the gestures of greeting. _Could this get any better?_ she thought.

"I am most pleased to meet you," she said. "If...if I would not be causing you disturbance, I would very much like to see this place. I was brought to the entrance once before, and did not realize this was the inside."

"It would be my delight", he replied. "It is not often that those in our Halls show much interest in the stores. Except of course, when they are wanted by the kitchens", he said with mirth in his eye. "But Lady, how is it you passed me without my notice? I did not observe you enter."

"May I confide in you, Erudan?" she asked, with all the considerable charm she could muster.

"Yes, of course, Lady."

"I did not pass you. I came through the door, in the room around the corner."

Erudan's eyes opened wide. "You are the first ever to do so. That door is...a very strange thing. This post, this duty, comes with an instruction. Under no circumstance are we permitted to open it. Nor may we obscure access to it. Stranger yet, no one recalls when, or why, this requirement was issued. Yet it is a command of the King, a relic of bygone years. We do not question, we merely obey. Honestly, we have forgotten it, though it lies in plain sight. As I said, few come here."

Nenni's eyebrows arched. "I wish to ask, then, for your discretion in this matter. Please tell no one of the manner of my entrance here, though, I cannot imagine who would inquire. I can assure you, though, my use of it would not meet with the King's disapproval."

"As you wish, Lady." Nenni asked him a hundred questions; he was an open source for all the information she'd longed to know. She spent the better part of two hours there, her head bursting with knowledge of the food supply of the Realm.

"I wondered if I might ask for a few things, Erudan. I should very much like a small sack of unmilled wheat. Or even part of one. And used grain sacks, as many as you can spare." He disguised well how utterly bizarre these requests were to him, but as they were exceedingly simple requests for what amounted to castoffs and dregs, he could hardly refuse her.

"I cannot thank you enough for your time," she said. "Would it greatly inconvenience you, should I visit again?"

"No Lady, I would consider it an honor. You have...no idea...how rare it is to find someone who actually wishes to discuss commodity inventories and Palace demand for goods."

She laughed merrily. "I do, actually. I really do. And I will take my leave now. Thank you again so very much, for your kindness."

 _How gracious she is, and unusual._ Erudan thought. _The King is most fortunate._

With that, Nenni retreated to the door, her arms piled high with sacks and most of a bushel of wheat. Enough for an acre, she thought giddily. Not to mention, her pockets bulged with other small treasures she'd asked for...a ripe pear, sun-dried apricots, a robust tomato; even stalks of chard, kale and a small head of lettuce waving out of her dress. She hurried back up the passage, needing to work quickly with the greens. Hastening through the door, she tossed down the sacks and rushed to an area of dappled shade. Quickly she set each stalk into the earth, and willed strong roots and a few extra leaves.

Perhaps because these plants were small, she was far more relaxed in the use of her power. Relaxed and malleable enough, that she perceived the subtle magic of the garden beneath her feet. On instinct, she stripped off her boots, rooting her feet and toes into the damp earth. A spreading warmth rose through her feet, into her legs, and body. When the magic reached her hands, she simply guided it on its way. It was effortless, by comparison to what she'd done before. Breathing deeply, she looked with pleasure on the little plants. They would soon be the parents of a great deal of nutritious food, she smiled.

She turned back to clean up her mess. The earth against her feet felt immensely pleasurable, and she remained barefoot. Closing the south door securely, Nenni carried all her treasures back across the garden, to the western passageway, for safekeeping.

She hurried back to her desk. Before she could forget the figures Erudan had told her, she scribbled until she was satisfied she'd recorded every bit of the data. Marking the hour, she decided she had time to do one more thing. Back out to the vining plants, she wanted to try the More Relaxed Method for working with them. She needed baskets, a very great many of them. On her seventh try, she had produced something that satisfied her, and her expenditure of her own energy had been minimal. _With practice_ , she thought, _I will gain skill._

Waking from her rest toward sunset, she felt refreshed and happy. _What an absolutely perfect day,_ she said to herself. She bathed, and this time chose a dress in flattering shades of green. She was now certain, that her hair was growing at least an inch each day. Quite soon, it would be worth evening out the ends. She sat, relaxed and contented. For the first time since this crazy notion had entered her head, she felt that she'd made excellent progress, and accomplished all she'd wished for today. With the discovery of the passage, her plans were coming together almost too easily. So naturally, she poured herself a half-goblet of wine, and began elaborately scheming about tomorrow, from her perch on a stone bench that faced the balcony doors.

Thranduil returned, and she rose to greet him. "My Lord, good evening," she smiled. He opened his arms to her, wordlessly embracing her. "Good evening to you also, meleth. Are you feeling rested today?"

"Yes, I am," she laughed. The feel of his sonorous voice against her cheek still sent chills through her. She thought the quality of his speaking voice to be exceptionally fine, and could not tire of listening to him.

"That is well", he said, scooping her up to kiss her. She was never going to tire of that, either.

"How are you, Thranduil? Was today less too, or more too than yesterday?"

He reflected. "I believe it escalated from too to three, Adonnenniel. Let us speak no more on it, lest it become four in my mind."

Nenni laughed at the witty reply, but felt also a hint of sadness. She so very much simply wanted to know what he did all day, however boring or disagreeable it was to him...and she feared that she might wait a very long time, before having that wish granted. It felt to her like he was shutting her out, weaving a veil between them.

 _Look who's talking,_ the Little Voice said, as she felt a twang of guilt.

 _But at least I have a reason, a goal,_ Nenni shot back.

 _He may also,_ said the Little Voice.

 _Oh, shut up._

Frowning at her little internal argument, Nenni shook it off and poured him wine. She felt secure in the knowledge that wine could never go amiss.

"What did you do with your day, Adonnenniel?" he asked, as she handed him the goblet.

 _Uh oh. Showtime._ "Well, I had a nice conversation with Tinivel, who came by for a time in the morning. Later on I wandered a bit, and ended up at the storeroom, and met the Storekeeper, who was very personable and kind to me. And then, because I did not wish to fall asleep again on you, I rested, to ensure I could stay awake past the last forkful of food at dinner. Nothing too exciting," she reported.

"You spent no time in the garden, today?" he asked.

"Oh, right" she said, skillfully redirecting his question. "I'd almost forgotten, and that reminds me. I'd wanted to fiddle with the flowers a little, but to make a proper job of it, it would be very helpful to have a knife. It is best to make clean cuts on the stems, and I had nothing. Or rather, I did not want to pilfer cutlery from Galion. Is there something I might use? Ideally, quite sharp, with a blade between three and five inches. Folding or straight, doesn't matter." Then with a flash of inspiration she added, "Do you...have shears here? I feel foolish but I have no understanding of what items are common here...or not."

"There are shears, meleth. "

"Anvil or bypass? And are there pruning saws?"

Thranduil smiled. "Is there so much difference, among implements for flowers?" he smiled.

Nenni returned the volley: "Is there so much difference, between a short sword, a two handed sword, and a dagger?"

Thranduil laughed heartily. "You win, Adonnenniel. You make your point as eloquently as ever. I can provide you the knife you wish now, and then we will see what the smiths can manage." He disappeared into his wardrobe, returning with a well crafted stiletto knife and belt sheath. "Will this suit?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you very much! This will make life easier," she said, taking it from him. "I shall put this with my work clothes." She returned with her own wine, and sat close to him. They leaned against each other, watching the colors darken into evening. Eventually Nenni broke the silence. "Thranduil, might Legolas take me riding again? Now that I know I need not hobble around for days afterward, I feel more hopeful about the idea. Perhaps the day after tomorrow?"

"I shall ask him, meleth; it is very likely that he can."

She found his hand, squeezing it in gratitude. "I appreciate it very much, thank you for the favor."

 _She wants so little_ , he thought. _Others in her place would ask for gowns, jewels, feasts. How rare and lovely she is, and how innocent of her own humility._

"Adonnenniel, I have something for you." Thranduil rose up, and went to the drawing room, returning to offer her a box. Inside she found a dress... or was it a gown? A hug shouldered neckline accented a heavily embroidered bodice of iridescent sage green melting to a deep copper at the hips, before fading to a train of deep lilac tones. An elegant girdle belt accented the gathered low waistline. A gently pleated cloak, cascading gracefully off of each shoulder, completed the stunning gown.

Her eyes shining, Nenni set the box down and reached up to him. He raised her up and she hugged him tightly. With his hand on the side of her face, she showed him her wordless gratitude and admiration of its loveliness. After a moment, she pulled away enough to kiss him softly on the lips. "I do not know how I can thank you for all you have given me, Thranduil," as she touched her forehead to his. He looked back at her, greatly pleased.

"You might begin by allowing me to see you in it," he smiled.

"Anything, husband," her laughter pealing as he lowered her down.

He helped her into the gown, closing it up for her in back. "It suits you well, meleth," he said admiringly.

"Thranduil, this does raise a subject I must understand better. I am accustomed to looking like I dressed myself in a rag pile. What you thought of my clothing the first time you saw me, I cannot even guess. I wish to reflect well on you at all times; it would grieve me for you to be displeased with my appearance. How do you wish me to be attired, at the times when I am not rooting around with my flowers? Would I wear such as this to walk around the Halls outside this room, ride a horse in, attend a formal occasion with? I know so little. These are far finer than the ones I would have worn for a singing performance, on Earth."

"Meleth, you may dress as you please. There are few occasions that genuinely require pageantry here, and you would be well informed of those. If it pleases you to wear this each day, or only on a special occasion, that is for you to decide. You have much with which to concern yourself already, do not add clothing to an already long list." His eyes sparkled, looking at her. "But I thank you, that you would think to ask me this." She concluded at that moment, she just might become a peacock herself, if only to see that look in his eyes.

It had been a perfect day, indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

[Iavas 54- Firith 50, Imladris reckoning. Firith is the season that follows autumn on the elvish calendar, and means "Fading." September 17-Dec 3, Gregorian]

Tinivel arrived in the morning on schedule, bearing a large bundle in her arms. Nenni beamed and thanked her. But she also added that henceforth, any bulky requests were to be delivered to Erudan in the storeroom, with instructions to place the articles by the door. Though Tinivel privately though that this request was yet more odd than asking for the cloth in the first place, she hid it well.

Wishing to change the subject as quickly as possible, Nenni decided to switch to Girl Talk. She noted her rapidly lengthening hair and asked for advice, whether Tinivel might trim it to an even length tomorrow, and whether things such as bands, ties or other hair accessories were available. Tinivel seemed far more enthusiastic regarding this line of discussion, and made her arrangements. After they bade each other goodbye, Nenni wasted no time.

She felt she needed to return to the storeroom, as quickly as possible. But this time, she decided to take a presentation basket she'd woven yesterday, with some of her apples, to Erudan. Re-entering the door, she located him, but waited until he had finished a conversation with another and seemed to be alone. "Good morning, Erudan. I promise I shall only ask a few moments of your time this day. And, these are for you to enjoy." Erudan accepted the fruit from her, marveling inwardly at the size, color and fragrance. _Where had she obtained these?_ he wondered to himself. But to interrogate the wife of the King would be impolite, so he thanked her warmly.

She beamed with happiness. "I have only three questions I wished to have answered, and a small request. My assistant, Tinivel, may come here from time to time with items for which I've asked. Should any such thing arrive, would you please place it near the door, for me?"

"Of course, Lady. What did you wish to know?"

"First, what containers are used here to hold fine foodstuffs, or items not appropriate to being placed in sacks?" Erudan walked her through the rooms, indicating the variety of storage devices. Nothing seemed quite what she had in mind, until she saw a large stack of what appeared to be cured bushel gourds stacked in an alcove, awaiting processing. She eagerly walked over to examine them. _Perfection_ , she thought. "May I have one of the largest of these?" she asked. Happily holding her prize specimen, she beamed.

"You said you had three questions, Lady?" Erudan asked.

"Yes. I wish to know the approximate number of subjects of the King's Realm, and how many of them are connected to the Palace? I thought you would assuredly know this," she flattered.

Erudan thought for a moment. "I would say that there are, in rough numbers, twenty five thousand in the Woodland Realm, with perhaps two thousand of those being in direct connection to the Palace."

Nenni's eyebrows shot up. _You can't have a goal without hard numbers_ , she thought.

"My last question is one I am not expecting you can help me with, but, are scythes used in the harvest of grain crops for the Realm, and if so, how would I procure one?"

"They are used, Lady, and you can procure one right here. Stores of supplies for these and other agricultural purposes are this way," he said, showing her to yet another alcove. She gasped at the contents. An elven variation on any and every hand tool she'd ever had on Earth, and then some, greeted her eyes. She looked at the choices.

"Would it be...possible...for me to have the use of a scythe and one of the small bladed shovels?" she asked. "I could return them at any time, and would care well for them."

More than a little baffled, he asked her to choose what she wished. She located a scythe to match her stature, and chose a floral shovel...and a well designed trowel scoop for good measure. The shears were very tempting...but she'd already mentioned that to Thranduil, so she'd best leave that alone.

"Thank you Erudan, you have been so very helpful. I take my leave, and wish you an enjoyable day."

Erudan bit into one of the apples, respectfully waiting until after Nenni had departed. Pleasure unlooked for assaulted his senses, and he marveled, swiftly deciding that her unorthodoxy was entirely irrelevant.

Her next seven weeks were a blur of frenetic activity, and hard physical labor. She tried to divide her time evenly between growing, harvesting, processing, and the building of desired infrastructure. This allowed her to use different muscles throughout the day, so as to reduce the chance of overtaxing herself at any one task. She planned baskets for storage and winnowing of grains. Some were coarse, and only designed to hold weight. For others, she swiftly mastered the use of finer grasses and reeds. She perfected the making of different shapes and styles. An imposing stack began to accumulate.

She also decided to correct one other issue; the training and development of her new body. She determined to begin a program of stretching, exercising, running and even the practice of some maneuvers like cartwheeling and rolling...things she'd not done since being a child on Earth. She knew that such discipline would help her endurance for the work she planned, as well as increase her coordination and confidence.

Daily she focused on exploring the limits of and refining her ability to manipulate the magic around her. She learned to affect even small components of a plant, while leaving other parts untouched. Her crowning triumph was the mastery of the wheat stalks, which had been her most pressing issue. She'd need to be able to efficiently generate astounding volumes of grain, and the work of hand cleaning the harvest had been the bane of laborers on Earth for millennia. She learned to decay the chaff and any portion of the stalk she chose, separate from the kernels themselves. This enabled her to swiftly scythe the grain onto her long sheets, then command the loosening of the grain from the heads. She then only had to bundle the straw, binding it into thatch for other projects if desired, and then roll the grain loosely up in the fabric. She would then massage the pile for a few moments, then tip her roll sideways over a storage basket, leaving her with completely threshed grain, the kernels knocked free of their outer coat. Then, it merely needed winnowing. For that she used her flat baskets, tossing them up in the light breeze to leave her with the clean beautiful grain, free of debris. She could work what felt like 98% faster than she could on Earth, and it was not long before the sacks began to fill and stack in earnest.

She used her new knife without delay to carefully cut the opening of the bushel gourd, retrieving the real object of her desire-the seeds inside. She swiftly arranged finer, taller trellising on which to grow many gourds, which always did best when they formed hanging in the air. A stack of these soon joined the rest. A place for tools and organizing, sheltered from the sun and near the door, was in order as well. She began harvesting her fruits, placing filled baskets that could be stacked, without crushing their contents, into the passageways.

At last returning to her beloved almond, she willed the nuts to maturity and onto the ground, to collect them on her fabrics. Using much the same method as with the wheat, she filled sacks with these as well. She placed a single nut in her pocket, then took some of the remaining with which to grow up many more trees. When she was finished, she had a thriving fruit and nut orchard of an acre. She counted a little more than a hundred trees, each providing hundreds of pounds of fruit with each growth cycle. Each almond tree provided only 25 lbs of actual shelled nuts per cycle, but she was counting on the lack of almonds in Ennor to make these an extremely valuable trade commodity for the Realm. Plus, she thought smugly, they would be unsuited to growing in any place in Middle Earth of which she'd read, north of Gondor. Her gift of making time and the seasons dissolve away, for the plants, made the production and supply only as limited as her time and strength.

Columns and arches of stone she built, for decoration and the support of some of the plants, by moving great stacks of the flat stones to her chosen work sites. She made a mortar slip of cob; soil, and water mixed in with the copious plant matter from her other activities. This ancient technique would more than suffice, for what her garden required.

And one day, a marvel happened. Nenni had stopped to rest, and sing, for the further along her works developed, the happier she became. A bird arrived, a beautiful black billed magpie, and perched on a branch near her. Smiling, she sang to it, and it returned her song. The two of them went on this way for some time, and she was enraptured. She perceived that the bird was good and intelligent. When finally their song ended, she asked it, "Can you understand my speech?" The bird bobbed its head charmingly. At that very moment, another one of her flashes of inspiration arrived. She told it, "I have little chance to leave these Halls, and desire greatly the seeds of all lovely flowers in the Realm, or even living leaves, or shoots. Especially I would like to have those the bees and the butterflies love most, so that the garden may become more beautiful. Could you help me with this?" The magpie bobbed enthusiastically once again. "Then I offer you in return the food that is here. Take what of the fruits, nuts and grains you require for you, and those you love. I will work here most days. Anything you bring from the heavens, plant the seeds here," indicating a large swath to the bird. The magpie bobbed one last time, and flew off.

A riot of foods were harvested daily, for a full array of vegetables had joined the fruits. Luscious tomatoes, leafy greens, refreshing cucumbers, aromatic garlic and onions; little had eluded her. Nenni also learned that her storage fears had been needless, because she found she could keep the fresh produce from withering or spoiling. As long as it remained in the garden or its tunnels, everything simply stayed as it was, according to her desire. To her great delight, the hallways filled. All was well on its way. The only thing she desired yet to achieve, was her gift for Thranduil's personal enjoyment. She planned a bower of surpassing beauty, in which they might enjoy each other's company and love, surrounded by color, greenery and fragrance.

She cherished each of her evenings with her King, though it saddened her to watch him seem a little more tired in spirit and a little more preoccupied with each passing day. Nenni had stopped trying to pry information from him, knowing he would refuse to answer and change the subject. She had no wish to irritate him further; someone or something else seemed to be doing a spectacular job of that already. In her free moments waiting for his return each night, she began whittling a chess set. She'd never excelled at the game, but she'd always enjoyed it, and thought he might as well.

She stopped in on occasion to visit Erandur, obtaining more sacks and other small things, and keeping him well supplied in apples. Some days she brought him large supplies of the tomatoes and vegetables, to be sent to the kitchens...she was happy to pass along her early experiments. They had not quite met her standards, though they were finer than those to which the cooks were accustomed. One day, she determined to dress nicely and walk through the palace, lest she be thought a complete recluse. From a distance, she caught sight of Thranduil on his throne. Her heart leaped at his majestic appearance. She felt a sobering sense of the heavy responsibilities her husband had. Staying away, she chose paths that did not go near to him. If he went so out of his way not speak of his duties to her, perhaps her approaching him in this setting would displease him.

She had brought a small basket of her apples with her. She stopped in at the kitchens because she wished to meet the cooks, who were taken aback and greatly moved that she came to compliment them on the delicious meals she'd eaten. To each one there, she offered an apple. Visiting Erandur, she joked privately to him that for once, she wished to use the proper entrance. Her hair had grown long and luxuriant, and was now a cause for great admiration; her dark copper hair paired with her striking gray eyes was extremely rare in color among them. Yet she impressed all who she met far more with her kindness and personable interest in them, than with her appearance. Lastly, she discovered that all this time, the kennels had not been far from the storerooms. She stopped to see Beren, with a stab of guilt, realizing she'd almost forgotten him in her obsession with her self-imposed task. He hadn't minded, but she thought herself a horrible person for allowing herself to be so distracted. He'd been her entire life, and now she'd ignored him for days if not weeks on end...that could not continue. She worked out with Anthilen that on certain days, she would come for him, so they could spend some of the afternoons together.

She found time for rides with Legolas, too, who had taken her on regular short outings. Her security on the horse was gaining, and while she hand't quite mastered it, she was coming close to learning how he sprang from the ground onto the horse. Her long days of work and activity were building her strength and endurance.

One day, she cajoled Legolas into taking her to visit a farm, not too far removed from the lands surrounding the palace. They could now make faster time, with her able to ride hours at speed without undue hardship. That and, she'd gained the confidence to ride alone, on a different steed. She'd asked him if she could see a place where grain was raised or milled, anything like that.

The Prince did not disappoint; she'd enjoyed a fascinating hour in which she could talk shop with the farmers, Arandorion, and his wife, Beriadhwen; finding out all about their methods, productions and yields. They operated a small water mill, as well, and she learned that much of this flour ended its journey at the Palace halls. _Good to know._

As they returned from the outing, Legolas said to her, "It is most unusual, Nenni, for a elleth of high station to be interested in such things."

Nenni laughed and said, "maybe to some. But where I came from, this was my chosen life. I am a farmer; their life was my life, and it is joyful to meet with those who share the love of growing food."

Legolas smiled, and tried to imagine for a moment a life in which weapons, arms, and watchful defense of the Realm were not an everyday requirement. With a little sadness, he realized that he could not.

The very next morning after her long outing with Legolas, Tinivel arrived in the company of Ardethwis, Ainon and Istuion, bearing boxes. Nenni welcomed them to the drawing room. Her requests had been completed, and they unveiled them to her. The robes far exceeded what her mind had struggled to conceptualize. Tears formed in her eyes, as she looked upon them. For the robe of the blue peacock, they'd added in thousands of tiny gems or crystals, she didn't know which, all over the train. The peacock looking back at her from the robe dazzled with color, even in the light of the sitting room. Nenni was beside herself, thinking privately that the Necklace of Girion was of lesser beauty than these garments. She did not know how to thank them, and said as much.

Lady, they'd told her, all the reward they needed was the appreciation in her eyes, and the pride they would feel upon seeing their King wearing these. She asked them to wait, returning swiftly with baskets of her apples for each of them. "It is not remotely enough", she told them,"but it is something I hope you enjoy in small return for your kindness." They took her gifts with great appreciation, in no small part due to the fact that word had spread through the Halls concerning the special magnificence of these fruits.

"Lady, there is one thing more," Ardethwis said, placing a small box in her hand. Nenni opened it, to find the brooch, and could no longer contain her emotions. It was exactly as she'd wished. She wept for joy and appreciation, though she managed to avoid making a complete spectacle of herself. Those who parted from that room were the five happiest in the Halls, that day.

Nenni placed the packages in her chamber, carefully out of sight, until the right time to offer them to him should present itself.

Thranduil stared across the room, listening to Lord Falchon drone on about trades and tariffs. The elf was a waterfall of unvarying speech and repetitive statements, having relentlessly filled every audience he held with his advisors with this same cyclical prattle. He would wring his hands and wheedle that the imports were insufficient according to his tables, yet every time Thranduil (or anyone else seated, for that matter) made a suggestion to alter the outcome in a positive manner, Falchon then commenced an exposition on the low probability of that being a successful solution. _He is a small man whose only solace is to be at the center of attention,_ Thranduil thought. _Leave him be, he is not worth your ire._

In the past, he'd raged out of rooms over this sort of thing, once even imprisoning a few of them for two days, for their insolence and constant naysaying. He sighed heavily. He had vowed to the Valar to change his ways, and felt that the endurance of these monologues was a just form of penance. The effort he'd expended to change his heart was the hardest thing he had ever done, and he had been rewarded with incalculable mercy. He would gladly suffer ten thousand years of this, for the gifts he had been given.

 _Adonnenniel_ , he thought. He waited patiently through these endless tediums, his mind drifting constantly to when he would be freed and able to see her. Those hours were the light at the end of his tunnel. And yet, sleep had rarely come to him. He much preferred to hold her, and listen to her steady breathing, and feel the warmth of her skin against his. He'd endured such loneliness, for so long, and still struggled to adjust to its ending. It saddened him that he'd been able to give her so little of his undivided attention before resuming his duties. Yet, the harvest period and its final opportunities for trading before the snows of winter would be over soon. He'd have more time with her, then.

She seemed happy and content, he thought. She was as delighted with the simple shears he brought her as she'd been with the elaborate gown, and seemed to care for nothing more than his happiness. Which was why, he told himself, he would keep all this away from her. He would allow no such dreariness to dim her life.

His reverie was broken by the grating question of Lord Falchon, who smugly inquired of King Thranduil, a second time, whether or not his queen had offered him any insight on these pressing problems? Every face in the room blanched with intense discomfort. Falchon had long had a history of provoking the King to an extent, but had always avoided transgressing past a certain point. None of them had forgotten the _old Thranduil_. And regardless, this was the person of their King. That Falchon would dare to say anything involving the new queen, who had not yet been formally presented to them, seemed astoundingly ill-advised.

"What, Lord Falchon, causes you to ask me this?" King Thranduil said, his voice suddenly quite cold.

"It is the talk of the Palace, these fruits of astonishing quality your wife has procured. My sources tell me that she has been gathering information from everyone that has anything to do with the acquisition or preparation of food. As you know, my Lord, Erudan the Storekeeper reports to me, and I had occasion to see and sample these commodities for myself. She apparently sees fit to bestow them on every common servant. Large volumes of the highest quality vegetables are sent by her, to the kitchens. Surely she has told you of this?"

"I must protest, Lord Falchon," said Lord Merial. This has nothing to do with the purpose of this meeting, and is not your concern."

King Thranduil said nothing, his expression frozen. Lord Falchon saw that he had hit his mark, and pressed on further.

"Erudan also informs me that the queen has visited the stores with some regularity, asking endless questions regarding all trade in the realm. I believe that makes it my concern, Lord Merial," Falchon said imperiously.

King Thranduil stood up from the table, striding to Lord Falchon's seat. He lowered his head to look Falchon in the eyes. With a voice and expression that could have frozen water, he leaned over the man and said: "This meeting is concluded."

As he swept out of the room, every face in the room was white.

Lord Merial spoke: "You went about three leagues too far, Falchon. If you have erred in your accusation, I do not envy you the consequences. Even if you did not err, you still just basely attacked his queen in a public manner, when you could have approached the King privately with your concerns. Moreover, the queen has been restored to a man who has been bereft of companionship for longer than an age. You seem to have forgotten that he is our King, whom we serve and to whom we owe our duty. Your rudeness and your lack of compassion sicken me."

With that, all seated rose and left, leaving Lord Falchon alone in the room. Far too late, he now felt the sharp pangs of regret, and fear, settle into his belly.


	15. Chapter 15

[Firith 50, Imladris reckoning. November 19, Gregorian]

Thranduil struggled to master his emotions, as he stormed the paths to his chamber. He'd been blindsided, by a pathetic ellon who endlessly served him up heaping platters of grief. _How could she betray him?_ He'd been caught completely unawares, and made to look a fool in front of his councillors. It was plain, he fumed to himself, that she had been doing far more with her time than plucking roses and riding with Legolas. Try though he might, he could not control the spinning jumble of his thoughts nor the anger building behind it. Reaching their door, he yanked it open and entered.

She was not there, though it was a time in which he customarily might arrive home. Striding around, he noticed her chamber door was open. He approached silently, finding her asleep at her desk, her head resting in the crook of her arm that in turn pinned down assorted documents. He went over, pulling several sheets out without waking her. Her clothing was disheveled; her bare feet caked with soil.

As his eyes scanned the documents, his anger mounted. He saw endless lists of food inventories, calculations, data on grain imports, drawings, maps, plans. A dam burst inside of him. He took her head in his hands, roughly pulling her head upright. As her eyes flew open, he seethed at her:

"How could you do this to me? How could you dare to interfere with the affairs of this Realm, without my knowledge or consent?"

Nenni inhaled sharply, panic entering her eyes. She tried to twist away from him, but his grip on her face was far too strong. An image flashed into his vision, a powerful memory. She was a little girl, cowering from her father's rage as he towered over her. The man raised his hand to smash her across the face with his open hand with all his strength. As the blow fell, Thranduil felt her body slacken as she fainted.

His anger now mixed with alarm, he searched the surface of her mind. There was no pain, beyond a profound exhaustion. She was worse than the last time he touched her mind, weeks ago. He swept her up and laid her onto her bed, realizing she was in no danger. He saw too, she had lost weight. His anger not yet subsided, but rapidly giving way to perplexity, he looked back to the documents on her desk. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and right now.

He rang for Galion. "You will inform the councillors and captains that my appointments are cancelled until I determine otherwise. Any emergencies are to be petitioned to you," he ordered. "Galion. Who is the queen having to her meals, during the daytime?"

"No one, my Lord. The queen does not eat meals. I replace one teacup, each afternoon. The food at the sideboard is never touched. Tinivel has an appointment to come here most mornings, sometimes arriving with the seamstress and fabricworkers, and there is no one else. I have observed her to leave with the Prince, and perhaps on two occasions, she has gone for a walk in the Halls. Otherwise the Lady does not pass these doors."

His face unreadable, Thranduil retreated back to his chambers. _The garden_ , he thought. He opened the passage door, and did not walk far before he saw the sacks. And the stacks. And the baskets and the gourds, bulging with foodstuffs of every description. _There is enough here to feed the army_ , he thought. _Or more._ In a few places, it had become difficult to navigate through the piles. He passed over hundreds of sacks of grain. His ire was rising rapidly, for to him it confirmed the magnitude of her interference. Opening the garden door, he looked out and froze. The sight that met his eyes simply could not be. The formerly open spaces were now filled with vegetation and trees. It appeared as though an army of workmen had been here, constructing, and-

He caught sight of the fruit on the orchard trees. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again at the trees laden with fruit as if somehow they might not be real. He saw the enormous red apples, that were apparently the source of so much discussion. _The enormous red apples Lord Falchon had accused her of acquiring illicitly...she'd grown them herself._ He walked to see trees filled with the same strange nuts he'd saved from her pocket, the day she arrived. It seemed obvious, that she had somehow created a fully functioning farm, right under his nose. His anger dissolved into a pool of confusion and a sense of having been utterly excluded. There was far more happening here than interference in trade agreements. But still, it made no sense. What lay before him was the work of years of effort. He could utterly not reconcile the things he'd just seen. And he'd screamed at her, just like another had in her past, terrifying her. Stabbed with remorse, he fell to his knees and wept.

She slept on, and he did not wake her. He did, however, move her to their bed. And through the hours of the night, he kept watch from a chair, never moving. An hour after sunrise, he heard her stir. "Oh, no...I'm late" were the only words to escape her lips. She was still wearing her soiled clothes, he'd not undressed her. He withdrew further back, so as not to be seen. He saw her take a cup of tea, scribble a note, and pass through to her bedchamber, and heard the passage door open. He followed her silently, at a safe distance.

Nenni awoke, not comprehending what was real. Had she imagined it? She had the same feeling, in her spirit, as when she'd woken from a horrible dream. The memory of him screaming at her, in words that made no sense to her...she shook her head. It couldn't be. But it had felt so real. Looking up, she realized that it was already well after sunup. "Oh, no, I'm late." She flew out of bed, ringing and leaving a note to Galion to please tell Tinivel they would not meet this morning. She poured tea and left at once for the garden.

Sipping it as she walked the passageway, she tried to clear her head of the bad feelings that lingered. Opening at the eastern door, the sunshine flooded onto her face. It is far too fine a morning to wallow in a bad dream, she thought. And today will be the flowers. Feeling cheered, she grabbed a plum and put her teacup on her workbench, munching it as she walked to the spot she'd asked the birds to plant their flower seeds. She stretched her arms to the heavens, arching her back to try and breathe some of the fatigue out of her body. She picked a favorite ditty that always cheered her, and began the now familiar ritual of digging her bare toes into the soil. She began:

 _White coral bells, along a slender stalk, Lily of the valley round my garden walk. Oh how I wish that I could hear them ring, Than can only happen when the Faeries sing._

The seeds sprang to life. Happily she drew up the cosmos and calendula, the zinnia and the lavender. She clapped with happiness. She loved raising food, but really she adored flowers most. This had been her own way of saving the best for last. And unseen by her, Thranduil watched, his lips parting in astonishment. If he were given another age to puzzle out what he'd seen, he could not have imagined this. She moved next to find a favorite rose, to get cuttings. She clipped two small piece with her new shears, and walked on to double column she'd built. Setting them into the earth, she stepped back again. He heard no song this time, as she held out her hands. The roses sprang up around the columns, meeting at the top to twine into a living arch of the reddest blossoms. Next, she worked her vines into a spectacular twisted arch, then brought up a delicate pink clematis to cover them. Stepping back a little further, so as to admire it, she bumped into something. She felt powerful hands on her shoulders, and his voice asked softly and with sadness: "Meleth, why did you keep this from me?"

In a flash she realized it had been no dream, and that she'd earned his anger. She turned to him and dropped to her knees, bracing her hands on his legs. "My Lord, I am grieved to have angered you. Though...I do not understand what I have done." She did not look up.

He knelt to face her. "Meleth, I ask forgiveness from you. I will never forgive myself for my words. It seems we have much to talk about." He kissed her forehead, embracing her.

She sighed deeply. "Thranduil, this..." as she made a sweeping gesture around them "was almost finished. I meant it to be a gift, for you. A surprise. I wanted so much to help."

"Adonnenniel, what do you mean, you wanted to help? Help with what?"

"I...conversed with Legolas. Please do not hold any of this against him; in his wildest dreams he could not have realized what a simple discussion would lead me to do. I asked him about food here, how the people are fed in your Kingdom, especially in times of trial or war. I know that dangerous times lie ahead for this Realm. For all of Ennor. He told me that the procurement of surplus stores of food had always been an issue, one that you struggled with. I discovered, soon after you returned to your duties what...what I could do. That I had or had been given a powerful gift, one that this place somehow amplifies. I thought that if I could demonstrate to you what this garden could provide, especially with adequate time left for preparation and storage, that it would aid you by securing your food supply. "

Thranduil's eyes widened as he listened, but he did not interrupt.

"But it ran deeper, as things with me often do. At first I wished to explore this gift on my own; to learn its uses and limits for myself, without interference. Then I justified hiding this from you because, I was creating a surprise. There is a saying on Earth, that someone has 'gone down the rabbit hole.' Once I fix my mind on something important to me, I lose myself to it. Most every waking thought involves problem solving and ideas and planning. I can, and do, run off completely off the rails. I know I've not been caring for myself. I know I barely eat, and I work harder than I should. I rested before you returned each evening, to be refreshed enough to keep you from suspecting anything. You wouldn't talk to me about your duties, so I found those who could tell me what I wished to know. Please, none of them knew. Blame me, no one else. All anyone could have seen is that I'd ask questions, and request supplies, that must have seemed very odd. I took very little, and none of it was of any value. I didn't want anyone to be able to accuse me of taking things inappropriately. Everything I really needed was here already, in one form or another. I felt I needed to prove that I could fill your storerooms, and even grow a valuable commodity that could be traded to your profit, to be taken seriously."

She continued,"I should have realized that this was becoming wrong when I was so actively working to deceive you. I never directly lied to you, but I deliberately failed to mention vast amounts of the truth, when you asked how I spent my time. The secrecy was meant to end, and soon. This project is maybe two or three more days from reaching the fulfillment of my vision. I will finish it, but either way I place this effort into your hands. I hope you can forgive me. I vow to you, that I will never try to deceive you again."

Thranduil digested this for many moments, and spoke:

"Adonnenniel, I forgive you, though there was nothing to forgive. I was wrong. My anger was misplaced and wrong. I listened to the words of a person I knew to be petty and spiteful, allowed myself to give in to anger, and behaved badly. You had every right to create a gift for me; this place was yours to do with as you wished. I foolishly imagined you only came here each day to cut some flowers and walk in the sunshine, because I underestimated you very badly and did not bother to learn enough about you. When you asked me about my duties, I believed I was protecting you from the troubles outside of this chamber by refusing to speak of them. I sat in endless tiresome meetings, discussing the same problem of stores and trade each day, while you were here solving the problem. I too make a promise. I will keep nothing from you any longer. Had I simply answered your questions, we might have spent the last two months working together, and not apart. Nothing will excuse my treatment of you. I am ashamed."

Nenni laughed. "Listen to us. It is clear that there was a misunderstanding. And we are discussing it and we will fix it. We all make mistakes, Thranduil. You have been unhappy in your duties, and under strain. I love you and do not hold this against you. Let's not waste the time, having a contest for who is most guilty."

She gave him a slice of apple, enjoying his obvious appreciation.

"You gave these to the storekeeper, and withheld them from me?" he teased.

"Of course I did," she replied with a smirk. "He told me what I wished to know."

"The rest...give me a few days and then I will have a final little surprise here." She paused. "Thranduil, might we spend the day together? I would and will not complain, but I have missed you."

His nod of assent brought her joy. She stood up, to walk back to the door.

"Adonnenniel. Wait." She turned back to him. He still knelt in front of her, leaving her in the amusing situation of standing taller than him. He took her hands. "I thank you, from the deepest places in my heart, for what you have done here. This is a tremendous achievement, even with the use of a magical gift, and you did this entirely unaided. When I learned you had a farm in your other world, I gave no thought to anything you might have meant by that, except to imagine that you had flowers, or perhaps directed others to do work. You are intelligent, resourceful, and hardworking. I am grateful beyond words, to have you at my side." With that, he took her into his arms again. It was possible that she would die of happiness. She believed that he loved her, and that he thought her attractive. But to hear from his own lips that he saw and acknowledged her capability and her worth; that had more value than anything. He perceived the qualities she appreciated in herself, that had been overlooked by so many.

Somewhat determined to give her a pleasurable evening, Thranduil acted the part of her personal servant. He did everything for her, including a luxurious bath and dressing her in the beautiful gown he'd given her. They enjoyed their meals together, Nenni finally feeling something of an appetite. When they daylight was beginning to fade, she took her hands in his, and looked into his eyes. "Thranduil, I said I would keep nothing from you any longer. I have something else for you. But first, I need to show you something," she said, as she lifted his hand to her face. She showed him the peacocks, in her memory. Dazzle, with his pure white train streaming in the morning sun as he proudly stood atop the arch. The stately birds among the trees of their farm, taking the steps of their dance in full glory, as they displayed and fluttered their trains aflame with color.

"These birds were very special to you, were they not? They are beautiful, I have never seen the like."

She went to her chamber and retrieved the large boxes, keeping the small one in her pocket. "I asked for these to be made for you. It is the wedding present I could not give you, on the day we united." She placed them on the bed, for him to open. The robe with the white peacock motif was on top, and he drew this appreciatively out of its wrappings. She helped him to spread out the train over their bed, so that he could see the full intricacy of the delicate white on black design. "Adonnenniel, this is now the finest of what I have. I thank you, both because it is wondrous and because it came from you."

"You might not think so, in a moment," she replied softly.

He lifted the lid on the second box and gasped. Which, she thought with satisfaction, she'd never seen him do. She'd not been certain that it was even possible to surprise or impress him. The look of obvious pleasure in his eyes brought her great happiness. "May I see you wear it?" she asked.

He removed it from the box, now fully seeing the great bird on the train of the robe gazing back at him in an array of colors and jewels. "Meleth, he said, "I have no words." She helped him into the robe. He reached for her, kissing her deeply. After they parted, she smiled and said: "There is one last thing," handing him the small box. He opened it, staring wordlessly at the bejeweled brooch. She took it from him, and pinned it to his robe, between his collarbones. She stepped back to admire him. "Fit for a King," she murmured.


	16. Chapter 16

[Firith 50-51 Imladris, November 19-20 Gregorian]

That evening and all the next day, Thranduil decided both of them had endured enough from their self-imposed versions of obligation. He'd meant every bit about not returning to his duties for a time, if only to give his councillors in general, and Lord Falchon in particular, time to reflect in uncertainty and discomfort over the outcome of their last meeting.

True to his word, he spent long hours explaining the details of food acquisition and trade to Nenni. She sat with him at the table, adding to her parchments already laden with information and taking careful notes. It thrilled her, to finally be included. More than that, she felt like she had him back. After weeks of becoming sadly resigned to the growing distance between them, this felt like sunshine after a period of winter. Having finally spoken for long enough on this matter without a break, she sheepishly asked him,

"Thranduil, you never did explain to me what angered you. I would like to know what I did, or what you thought I did, that brought that to pass." But I wish to hear about it in the pool. In the pool, with you. And with wine."

"Would that all affairs of state be conducted thus," he laughed. They quickly poured their goblets and entered the steaming water. She climbed into his lap, nestling into the crook of his shoulder. If Nenni could spend all day in his arms, being carried around, she would. Though she might not admit that aloud. She'd always been independent and could take care of herself, but the feeling of security in being surrounded by his strength; it was too much to pass up. Maybe it was a relic of human evolution, who could say. _I won't apologize to myself or anyone else, for enjoying that he is my sanctuary._

He told her of the councillors. Lord Falchon who specialized in trade matters, procurement and taxes, tariffs, levies and every other sort of economically based political intrigue. Erandur served under him, helping keep the import ledgers and accounting for receiving and inventory. Lord Sadronniel oversaw the massive flow of supplies inside the kingdom, having others underneath him to care for the needs of the palace as well as outlying dependents. Lord Merial acted as liaison to the military aspects of the realm; ensuring readiness of Thranduil's army, its provisioning and support systems. Lastly, Lord Penlor supervised the flow of luxury goods both in and out of the realm, including being responsible for the personal inventories of King Thranduil. There was a military branch of councillors too, most of them having the titles of general or commander. These were the tacticians and those who had oversight of training and military assignments, such as the guards and patrols.

Pausing to take a long swig of wine after this long preamble, he laid out for her the words Lord Falchon had spoken to him, after weeks of wearing on Thranduil like the ocean crashing against the shore.

"I failed both of us, Adonnenniel. I allowed a small minded person to lead me into the anger I'd forsworn. And worse yet, I turned that anger at you without even having the decency to ask for an explanation in a civil manner."

He hung his head down, still remorseful.

"Thranduil." She spoke as she nudged herself around to face him. "Do not dwell on having made a mistake. Focus on having realized your error, and having done what you could to make it right. It is when we stop trying to be the best we can; only then can darkness take root and grow." _Ask me how I know that,_ she thought.

"I love you deeply, husband. Do not let the internal torments of others take your peace of mind." She leaned up slightly to kiss him softly on his lips, stroking his cheek with her thumbs.

"Adonnenniel, what do you mean, 'the internal torments of others?' " he asked.

"Lord Falchon. Do you know, or have you ever given thought to why he is unpleasant? Unless a person is truly evil, which is blessedly very rare, there is always a reason why a person behaves as they do. No one wakes up in the morning and announces to themselves, _I believe I shall endeavor to be a horrible person today, insufferable to all those I shall meet._ Behavior, both for good or ill, always has a cause; a driver, if you will. One must look past the words and the actions to perceive whence they originate. With that understanding, most persons are not difficult to master.

Lord Falchon is what we called a "control freak" on Earth. These kinds exist in turmoil, inside of themselves. Their thoughts rove to and fro, in a chaos. Which is why they latch onto what they can control, and this makes them feel better. It is a shield they place around themselves. In Lord Falchon's case, his shield is his position in your Realm. Nothing he says or does has anything to do with you; rather, the need to impose his authority over others is a whip that drives him forward. He cannot govern this need, it governs him. He likely thinks little of his own worth, not believing he can trust in himself. And above all, he must appear invulnerable...but inside of himself he is extremely insecure.

When you rose up and left the council table, you did the best possible thing. You did not engage with him, you did not provide a platform for an argument. This spoke quite loudly of your displeasure. But he must have seen you react to his accusation against me. Once he realized he could bring his turmoil to you, he'd won. I would call your encounter with him a draw. You both scored points.

Thranduil turned this entirely new series of thoughts over in his mind for many minutes.

"Adonnenniel, you make the perception of these matters seem so simple...but they are not so obvious to me."

She thought for a moment. "Thranduil, if you trust me, bring me with you to the next meeting with these councillors on this matter, when you return to your duties. Do not announce this ahead of time. I can show you how to master him, if you wish; not with anger but with insight. I will not fail you."

Thranduil looked openly astonished. Yet the more he thought on it, the more he liked the idea. "But meleth...do you not dislike groups of people? I have no wish to add to the struggles of your transition."

She laughed. "It is far more complex than liking or disliking groups of people. I'll try to explain the short version. It has to do with what energizes me and what drains me. I draw my strength from solitude and from time with...well, you. But I am fully capable of behaving as though I am energized by groups of people. This is a necessary deception that I put on for the benefit of others, because in order to form bonds with people, sacrifices need to be made. It is the actor's art; I throw myself into becoming another version of myself so that at the time, it feels real, even to me. People desire most to be made to feel that they matter, that their worth is seen. If I make the effort to engage with others, I give them this sense of worth, and my reward is the forging of new connections and new understandings of how the people work together as a social unit. I gain goodwill and loyalty, and those are the things that make others want to be helpful and work together. The price I pay is that I will go home later, exhausted to the core, and desire solitude until I feel like myself again. There are times it has been so bad that I can feel the muscles in my face begin to tremble uncontrollably with fatigue. But I feel it is worth the effort. It is simple, to set others at ease. All one need do is ask them questions, because most everyone wants to talk about themselves. Mix in memorizing a few polite transitions by which to graciously end an overly tedious conversation, and suddenly, doors unlock."

Thranduil struggled to follow what she was saying. He understood, in concept, of what she spoke. But how to sense all this, to know what to say and when? This seemed exceedingly difficult.

Nenni divined his thoughts. "If you wish to learn this, simply notice the exact words with which I speak to people, the expressions on my face, my body language. You do not strictly need intuition to succeed wildly with others, you only need to follow a certain formula in your interactions with them. You will find that I use a repeated pattern, that can be broken down and memorized. I learned this by imitation, and you can as well. If you do not wish, then you have me at your side to accomplish it for you.

Do you remember, Thranduil, what you spoke to me on my first day here? 'In exchange for your life, you will remain here, subject to me and to the laws of this Realm.' I accepted your conditions. You are my husband, but I am pledged to you also as my King. Consider me to be a deployable asset, to use as you see fit."

Thranduil was taken aback; he had long forgotten this exchange.

"Adonnenniel. What must my words that day have made you feel? I am sorry." He said this to her with genuine compassion.

"There is no need to be concerned about this, Thranduil. I was beyond feeling anything, that day. You did not hurt me."

"I do not understand."

"Your sword to my neck would have been as welcome as your pardon. I had no fear, nor anger, nor hope. That hour was when I looked on you, and accepted your rule over me, without pride or reservation. Perhaps I recognized something in your spirit, even then. The only clear memory I have is of looking on you for the first time, and that you were beautiful. It is difficult to explain such states of mind; mired in pain, exhaustion, and confusion. But," she reflected "perhaps that is when the heart sees clearest."

He lifted her out of the water with him, placing her on towels warmed by the late afternoon sun. He dried her off, kissing her tenderly. Determined to offer her pleasure, he moved her to their bed, where he might continue. She relaxed into his attentions, allowing him cover her with soft kisses, placing her limbs as he saw fit. Taking her feet, he began to gently knead the arches with long strokes from his thumbs, Then moved to use both his hands on each foot. Fascinated, he watched as she arched in pleasure at his touches. He heard more moans escape her from this than from...the other sort of attentions he would have expected to elicit such sounds. An inspiration struck him, and he continued to massage her toes, feet, and down the sides of her heels and ankles. He carefully began to sweep his free hand over her belly to her mound, ending his touches at the inside of her thighs. A sharp intake of her breath revealed to him that this was a good notion, indeed. As he slowly chafed between her small toes, and rubbed each one carefully between his fingers, his other hand began to tease her more and more, with his feather light brushes, each one designed to gently part her legs a little more with each pass of his long fingers. When he saw what she wished, in a smooth motion his hands ran up her legs with the lightest touch, and his mouth was on her.

His hands held her hips in a firm grip, so that he might move her pelvis exactly as he pleased. Some moments, he lifted her up to allow his tongue to move deep within her. Then suddenly, he might lower her down fully to the bed so that he could move his mouth with careful slowness, to explore her center of pleasure. When her breathing quickened, he entered her with a single finger, taking care to move with imperceptible slowness until his fingertip could massage the inside of her, pressing upward and tracing tiny circles in the flesh of her secret parts. He knew he was filling her with the heat of unmet desire. Usually, he liked to draw this out, to keep teasing and tormenting until she'd be senseless with need. But he wanted this time to be different...this was for her, simply for her uncomplicated enjoyment. So he moved between her legs and carefully entered her, with gentle, very gradual pressure, until she sighed with satisfaction at feeling the full length of him inside of her. He kept himself low over her body, his hips and belly in close contact with hers, covering her center of pleasure with his own skin. He moved at a slow but steady pace, ensuring that each stroke ended with a gentle push against her childbed, before almost taking himself out of her. He leaned up to place soft kisses on her cheeks, before claiming her mouth.

He kissed her deeply as he relentlessly massaged the inside of her, never changing his pace. She was covered in the warmth and weight of his body, her own fingers lightly holding his arms. At last, he sensed she was near, that the heat within her had inevitably built under his careful attentions. When he could feel that she had reached her plateau, the free fall plunge just prior to her release, he moved just a little faster, with just a little more pressure, deeply extending his tongue into her mouth while cupping her breast in his hand, his fingers finding and gently squeezing her nipple. He felt her arms scramble up to seek a hold on his back, her fingers grasping for a purchase. She cried out as her orgasm broke, her parts clenching around him harder than he'd believed possible. She was writhing in the inexorable contractions than ran up and down her body, every muscle locked in the tension of the white hot pleasure. He felt the waves come in intervals, and he moved gently to milk her each last twinge of pleasure from her insides. She held him tightly until she could finally relax, and went limp. Still inside of her, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her and she recovered her senses.

"Thranduil," she began. He placed his fingers over her lips.

"I know what you would say, meleth, that you desire for me to take my pleasure now also. Perhaps in awhile. Right now, my pleasure is from having experienced the fullness of your own. And before you protest, this is a command from your King," he teased.

"As you wish, my Lord King", she whispered, snuggling further into his warmth. They both laughed, and kissed each other gently. She added, " and I thank your Highness, who is uncommonly generous to his subjects." With that, they both burst out laughing in earnest. It had been a joyous day.

As evening came and the stars shone above them, Nenni steeled herself to ask the question to which she dreaded the answer. A little.

"Thranduil, will you return to your duties tomorrow?" She'd loved this extra time with him, but inside herself, knew that it could not last.

"No, meleth, I believe one extra day for Lord Falchon to reflect on his conduct is in order. However, I did have a small errand in the morning, once which should require only a few hours? I hope you will indulge me; I planned something for us, and if I reveal my errand I cannot then surprise you." Nenni laughed. "My Lord, it is sunshine on my heart to share your confidences. I hardly need to be told of your every private matter. Yet I cannot lie, your consideration to include me and allow me close to you is all I could have hoped for."

They retired that night, and as Nenni drifted off she wondered, _is it possible to ever weary of being this happy?_

"Thranduil, will you return to your duties tomorrow?" She'd loved this extra time with him, but inside herself, knew that it could not last.

"No, meleth, I believe one extra day for Lord Falchon to reflect on his conduct is in order. However, I did have a small errand in the morning, once which should require only a few hours? I hope you will indulge me; I planned something for us, and if I reveal my errand I cannot then surprise you." Nenni laughed. "My Lord, it is sunshine on my heart to share your confidences. I hardly need to be told of your every private matter. Yet I cannot lie, your consideration to include me and allow me close to you is all I could have hoped for."

They retired that night, and as Nenni drifted off she wondered, _is it possible to ever weary of being this happy?_


	17. Chapter 17

Warning, for extremely graphic violence in this chapter.

Do you know what purple wisteria trees are? You should :-) .

[Firith 52 Imladris, November 21 Gregorian]

Nenni decided to make good use of her few hours that morning, and prepared for her day with a clean set of work clothes, her knife at her belt, and a head full of floral ambition. She wanted to begin work on their bower, which she imagined as a platform under dappling shade, encircled by columns with every color of climbing rose. Especially the old kind, that had thousands of small, richly ruffled blossoms.. They would have a platform on which to rest, love, or gaze skyward, that would be a bed of the softest mosses. Surrounding all this, she wished for some of the greenery of the forest floor to combine with wildflowers and other blossoms, in arrangements that ran riot. And if she could manage it, cedar and lavender; the scents which reminded her so much of Thranduil. She'd been simmering this concept in the back of her mind since she'd initially seen the two towering purple wisteria trees, many weeks before. They had already been here, planted long ago near the eastern wall. And someday, she would find the courage to ask why this garden had been built, and for whom.

A creek gave this section of the garden extra moisture and ambiance; the flowing water sounds were soothing. Her gift would keep these trees in blossom when she chose, and the beauty of the great chains of lilac colored flowers overhead would create a space of surpassing beauty. What she needed mostly today was time to mentally organize the layout...but first she went to retrieve Beren, so that they might have the time together. It was so quick to bring him through the south passage; she wished she'd known of her real proximity to him much sooner. Nenni watched him indulgently, as his nose led to him to some delightful sniff in one of her new flowerbeds. He vigorously began to dig a hole, with soil flying in every direction. _No matter, if it keeps him happy._ She realized that she still resisted having the great dog spend much time with Thranduil, uncertain exactly why. _Perhaps_ , she smiled, _it is because even you find him obnoxious, and believe that only you will enjoy him for what he is. Much like Earth parents, who seemed perpetually charmed by the antics of their ill-behaved child_ , she mused. She shook her head and left him to dig and romp, returning to her task. She'd brought parchment on which to sketch, and after about an hour of staring and drawing, had the general outline of what she wished the space to be. _Enough for now._ She learned long ago that her best ideas didn't always come at once, they built up in stages. This draft would now serve as a basis for further ruminations. About how to manage one obstacle, she was not so certain. She'd need to go into the woods, on a search for the right kinds of forest vegetation. It was important to her that elements of this bower reflect the forest Thranduil loved. While she wasn't fully certain, the general impression she had was that the woods were not a safe place to venture alone. She recalled that monstrous spiders, orcs, and worse made their intrusions into this realm. Perhaps Legolas might indulge her in a minor expedition; she realized she knew nothing of fighting or how to defend herself from such as these, and needed protection.

Moving on from her reverie, she elected to harvest some fruits into her baskets. Now that the cat was out of the bag, it surely made sense to consider moving more of these wonderful foods to the kitchens, for the enjoyment of all. Beren returned to her as she'd just finished arranging a lovely display of dessert pears and plums, his nose and face filthy with soil and mud. She set down her basket, knelt, and opened her arms to him. They repeated a ritual they'd had since he was a small puppy. He'd crawl to her lap, and flop down so she could cradle his head and chest, rub his belly, and give him kisses on his nose. He would try to lick her in return, and sometimes she would allow it. She was entirely occupied in their game of what she jokingly termed Kissy Face when she felt that they were being watched. Looking up, she saw Thranduil watching her in what might be described as morbid fascination. She rose up, smiling, and simply said, "He's my hound dog," offering no further explanation.

The Elvenking thought that this pasttime might be slightly disgusting, but wisely decided that if it made her happy, it was best left alone. He smiled at her, asking if she would like to hear of his surprise.

"I was doing my best to be patient and not nosy," she laughed,"but I am curious, as always."

"I have had a meal prepared for us that we might take out in the forest. I thought perhaps that you might enjoy going for a ride today, with me." He already held two small, carefully packed baskets of food.

"You...would take me?" Nenni was honestly stunned, this exceeded anything she would have guessed at. She somehow didn't think of him as leaving these Halls, though she knew that was foolishness the moment the notion came into her head. Of course he left the Halls, these were his woods. "I can think of nothing finer," she said, her eyes shining.

"You are already suitably attired; I would suggest only adding a light cloak and your water flask."

She hesitated. "Thranduil, might Beren come with us? He would enjoy it greatly, and so would I. I miss seeing him run."

Nenni expected him to deny this, but he assented. He knew that Anthilen was working with the animal to teach it to hunt out Orc, and privately thought that any extra measure of safety could not go amiss. Though, he was sure the risk was minimal. He'd ordered extra patrols of the area he intended to travel via Galion, as an extra precaution.

Nenni had never allowed herself to become excitable, because it was another technique by which she insulated herself from disappointments. But she felt excited now, at the mere thought of what the day promised. She retrieved her things, electing to add in the waterproof pouch she'd had made, in the hope she might acquire some desired plants. Upon her return to Thranduil and Beren, they all made their exit through the southern passage out of the garden. After emerging into the Storeroom, she took his arm. They did not make their way to the stables as she thought, but slipped unnoticed into the woods, with Thranduil carrying the baskets in his spare hand. They walked for perhaps ten minutes, with Nenni silently soaking in the sounds and smells. Beren, for once staying close, appeared to be doing the same. It still disturbed her, the haze of sickness lying over the forest. Would that she could drive the shadows off, so that it could mirror the perfect health of the trees inside of her garden. Yet, she knew this was far beyond her. Idly, she might unobtrusively command a twig to grow, or a vine to lengthen. She could not resist testing her powers for the first time in the outer world. She found, as she suspected, that while she yet had the ability, it was more difficult, more distant, and took more energy out of her. Having no wish to dominate all her surroundings, she did not mind. What she'd been given in the way of gifts was more than enough.

Thranduil stopped in a clearing, and bent down to speak something to Beren. He then began a low, quavering whistle. How strange, she thought to herself, it is the first musical sound I've heard from him. She had to admit how little she still knew about Thranduil, but how could it be otherwise? She had been united with him for perhaps a month; he who had lived and had experiences for thousands of years? And her...what was she, anyway? A confused human who found herself in an elven body, or an amnesiac elf whose consciousness was lost on Earth? _I doubt I'll ever know._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of an enormous bull elk, its calm eyes like limpid pools. Thranduil spoke to it, and the elk dipped its head to him. The animal had the largest rack of antlers she'd ever seen...except over his throne, she recalled. Nenni nodded her head, in respect to the mighty creature.

"This is my steed, Adonnenniel. He will take us through the forest today." Nenni noted that the elk was saddled and bridled, which seemed unusual, but she did not wish to ask endless questions. Thranduil attached the small baskets to each side of the saddle gear, while Nenni waited quietly for instruction. Thranduil sprang into the saddle. Privately, she thought this was grossly unfair, as the elk's extra height made matching the feat impossible for her. It was only then that she noticed, he was armed. She could see that he wore his sword, and had who knows what else hidden under his cloak. It surprised her, though she didn't see why it should. He reached his arm down to her, and he instructed her to grasp his forearm as he would hers, and to move with him. A great lift from him allowed her to swing up behind him. She was pleased to make a fair job of it, and not embarrass herself. She settled herself where she could hold his waist if need be, and then returned her hands to her thighs.

They walked on quietly for some time, with Nenni enjoying the smoother and silent motion of the great elk. Another time, she would much look forward to hearing of his friendship with this animal. She marveled at the immensity of the forest, and from time to time she asked if Thranduil would allow her down to collect a bit of this plant or that flower. He gladly obliged, and her stops were brief. Nenni watched Beren enjoying himself a short distance removed, nose idly sweeping a foot above the ground, as he was wont to do. She often wondered what his sensual world was like, with his hyper-developed ability of smell. Did he see his surroundings as lines of trails leading everywhere, but ones made of smell and not vision? He was such a beautiful dog, and it was really only her practiced eye that allowed her to track him; his mottled brindle color provided exceptional camouflage as they walked deeper into the woods.

She tensed from the first singsong note from the dog, whose speech she knew so well. She saw him begin his crisscross near a small glade of trees, and instinctively searched up into the canopy with her eyes. What she saw froze her heart. The foulest looking creature she'd ever seen was drawing a bow, the arrow aimed right at Beren. Rage such as she'd not felt in decades flooded her mind. Roaring "NO!" with a voice that would have shattered a window, she dove off the elk, somersaulting back to her feet. An explosion of her will forced the tree in which the Orc was perched to erupt in growth, knocking its arrow off target and causing it to fall to the ground. Nenni was nearly upon the vile creature by the time Thranduil even realized what was happening. He was the most skilled warrior in the Realm, but he had never worked with a hound. Nenni had had the advantage.

Nenni's rage poured through her with an unstoppable violence. That thing had meant to take Beren's life, and it would now receive the same from her with all the malice and cruelty she could invent. She commanded the vines at the base of the tree to bind the hands and legs of the hapless Orc, who was now spitting and writhing in fear. At the same time, Beren was on the creature.

"You should be afraid," she uttered with a deadly cold voice. "Beren, kill it," she hissed. As anger and hatred continued to surge through her, she whipped out her knife to sever each of its hands, first stabbing rapidly at each finger before removing the limb entirely. Beren closed his powerful jaws with their long fangs onto the face of the Orc, and shook it with relish. The orc shrieked in agony. Which enraged Nenni more, because she heard what would have been her own cry, had the arrow found its mark. The fury pouring out of her undirected sent up an encircling barrier of vegetation, as Thranduil had almost closed the distance to her, his sword drawn. He was barred outside of a cage of growing and spreading plant life, by which she'd sealed them inside. She had no thought, no awareness, besides what she intended to do to the Orc. With many times her usual strength, she tore open its armor to expose its upper body, her features distorted with malevolence. Using her blade, she slit the Orc open from groin to sternum, relishing its shrieks of suffering.

All his centuries of warfare could not have prepared Thranduil for this. He shouted her name, but she did not react to his voice. He watched in horror. She was deliberately torturing the thing, vivisecting it with her bare hands. She had torn out a large double handful or what might have been its liver, though it was hard to be certain of anything in their corrupted bodies, and was going back for more. Desperately realizing he had to put a stop to this, he chose the weakest spot in the vegetation, hacking at it with his sword as though it were a machete. Breaking through, he pulled the dog off and immediately beheaded the Orc. And she continued, not seeming to know that her victim was dead. Now that he was closer, he could hear her wrathful chant of _How dare you How dare you How dare you How dare you_. She was insensible...and very dangerous.

He did not believe she would harm him, but thought it prudent to take no risks. Thranduil reached around behind her, pinning her arms to her sides and pulling her back, and she resisted him. The strength he had to exert to in order to break her hold stunned him. Still she gripped the knife in her hand. Beren had by now taken the thing's head, and continued to worry it, shaking its black blood everywhere as he snarled over his prize.

"Adonnenniel. You must hear me." Still she resisted his hold on her, reaching back toward the carcass. Finally he did what he felt he must, and entered her mind. He exerted the strong will of his calm over the boiling cauldron of her emotions, and continued this for many minutes. He thought he felt her begin to relax slightly, when suddenly she inhaled deeply. He removed the knife from her grip, and turned her toward him. She was panting for air, and a mask of confusion came over her face, followed swiftly by anguish. Tears filled her eyes and she was wracked with sobs. Her body was fully passive now; she offered him no resistance. He held her against him, stroking her back. He saw that she stared down at her own hands. She was silent for many minutes, and finally spoke.

"I do not know how to ask your forgiveness for this, Thranduil. I would give much, for you not to have seen that. And I tried to resist you." She buried her face in her hands. "I am ashamed."

"Adonnenniel. It was an Orc, worse than a beast. It deserved death merely for being here."

"Thranduil." She forced the words out as tears flowed down her cheeks. "I told you once that I had darkness within me. I never wanted you to see what comes over me if I am angered in a certain manner. I never thought this could happen, here," she said miserably. "I will pay for it. But beyond that, I cannot imagine what you must think of me now."

He took her into his arms, trying to comfort her. "Meleth, I still do not exactly understand. What happened?"

She choked her words out."I saw the Orc was about to shoot Beren, and this...part of me I have never clearly understood...was loosed from its cage. All the rest of me was pushed aside. It wants only to punish, torment, and destroy. And I cannot stop it, until whatever I am angry at is dead. This cannot be normal. I do not want this, and yet in a way, what would I do without it when faced with the loss of what is dearest to me? Thranduil, I feel like I become some sort of demon."

"Adonnenniel, do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded earnestly, finding it harder to form words. "Then allow me to succor you in this. It is needless for you to punish yourself, drowning in evil thoughts. We will work through this, together. I have had to kill many times. You, who have not, are struggling with something your sensitive spirit cannot easily reconcile. Look at me," he said, laying his hand against her face. She felt his calm and strength wash over her, flooding out the revulsion and the pain of the memory she'd just created. These feelings were now placed in a box somewhere remote, with its lid slammed shut. She exhaled with visible relief. "Thranduil, thank you."

He helped her up, noticing that she struggled, receiving one of her brilliant smiles in return.

"Beren, come!" she called. Thranduil looked to see the dog still holding the foul thing's head in its jaws. It was covered in blood and the froth from its mouth. Beren did not move, and had a peculiar gleam in its eye.

"Beren. Come. Now." Nenni repeated calmly but with more forcefulness. With incremental slowness, the dog dropped its disgusting prize and slowly walked to her. Nenni knelt back down to greet him. She embraced the dog, covered as it was in gore, praising him lavishly and caressing him until the spell of his mood broke and the dog once again wagged his tail. "Goooood boy," she murmured to Beren in a repeating singsong, "he's my hound dog."

In fascination, Thranduil watched her unwittingly do for the dog what he'd just done for her. _Is there some connection here?_

Nenni now turned to Thranduil. "If we may, we should leave here now. And, while I am not ill or injured, much of my strength is used, for the time being. Is there water nearby, where I might clean us up? "

Thranduil placed her on the elk, lifting her easily by her hips to its back, and sprang up behind her.

"Come, Beren, leave it," Nenni commanded the dog, noticing that he was beginning to amble back to the carcass. Seeing the elk moving away, Beren followed them. Thranduil asked the elk to travel somewhat faster. About fifteen minutes onward, they emerged to a clearing adjacent to a small creek. The ground here was carpeted with colored autumn leaves. Thranduil helped Nenni down off the elk. She stripped off her tunic, and removed her boots. Pulling her leggings up very high, she led Beren into a section where the water came to above her knees. She set the tunic in the cool water to soak, then scrubbed at the dog's fur vigorously with her fingers, working until the last traces of blood washed away. She repeated the same, but more carefully and gently, around his face and eyes. Soon, she told him "OK", and released him to do as he wished. She then scrubbed her own face, arms, hands, everything she could. Thranduil watched her, entranced. He was puzzling out how such dark impulses had a home within her. _Can you think of nothing?_ he said to himself, as the memory of the day he'd berated her flashed into his mind. Her father. He must learn more about this, but not today.

"Is it all off of me?" she asked him. He approached her to inspect, and indicated a few last places she'd missed. She worked next at her tunic, carefully rubbing the mess out of the fabric against smooth stones until the last of it was gone. Wringing it out carefully, she left the creek, laying it out to dry on a warm rock in the sun. "Thranduil, do you have my knife? It also needs cleaning." She took it from him, and returned to the edge of the water, working until the instrument was spotless. Rising again, she returned it to its sheath. Nenni returned to Thranduil, seeking his arms.

"I like it here", she told him. "The leaves are beautiful, and the sunshine makes them seem more so."

"Do you feel you can eat?", he asked. "If so, we can take our meal here."

"I don't know how, after that, but I am hungry," she laughed. "I suspect I owe it to your interventions, not that I'm complaining." Thranduil bade the great elk to lie down, which provided a warm rest for their backs. He offered her the food, dried fruits and meats, bread and cheese.

"Cheese?" she said excitedly, biting into a slice with rapturous delight. "You have cheese here? How have so many weeks passed, and I did not know?" Thranduil laughed. "You have me to blame. Galion knows I have never much cared for it, and today I failed to ask the kitchen to leave it out. I did not think to ask you." Nenni laughed but then her face grew serious.

"Thranduil. How is it possible for anyone to dislike cheese?" She viewed him now with mock suspicion. They both laughed, and kissed each other lightly. As they ate, he told her of this part of the woods, how this was one of the few waterways that were not under heavy sleeping enchantments. And that she must never enter or touch any waters in his forest, until she understood with certainty which were which.

"It grieves me," he said, "that for long years now these woods have not been safe. The Orc we encountered never should have entered this far, yet there it was. Our patrols keep watch unceasingly, but still they slip past..." He froze.

"Adonnenniel. You must keep Beren here with you, now. Do not release him. You must stay here. Do not move, do not call out."

She did as instructed, which was not difficult. The dog was a hopeless mooch, and they had food. Nenni kept Beren enraptured with a tidbit of dried meat she'd saved for him, holding the scruff of his neck for added insurance. She watched as Thranduil rose, quietly speaking to the elk, and walked a significant distance straight away from her, to the other side of the very large clearing in which they sat. She saw him draw swords, and understood for the first time that there was danger. A small Orc pack filtered from the trees and loosely surrounded him, drawing their own weapons. She felt some anxiety, and yet she did not. While they'd never spoken of this, she had a very strong sense that he could care for himself. She obeyed him and did not move, but she had enough left in her that she focused with all her might on the vines near two of the twisted creatures, wrapping their legs in thick wooden bonds and immobilizing them where they stood. _Well that makes it more fair at eight to one_ , she thought in her nearly complete exhaustion. _Now I cannot move even if I wished to._

She looked on as his blades spun into motion; he wielded two identical swords. Really, it was over with so quickly, in a blur of steel. The fascinating thing about it was how little he seemed to actually move. She knew enough to understand that economy of motion usually signaled mastery.

The last two did not approach him to attack as the rest did, but stood there snarling and cursing at him. He finally realized why, smiling as his singing blade finished them. Nenni knew now that her effort had not been needed; he could have taken on four times their number and beyond with ease, though she was not so certain about his defenses against ranged weapons. She had much to ask and learn. Still, she could not sit here doing nothing if it was in her power to aid him.

He returned to her, smiling. "Thank you, Adonnenniel. Both for your compliance and your help. I will admit, I had not given consideration to the tactical aspect of your gift until now."

"Neither exactly had I. And while it is nice to have some kind of defense, it is limited badly by terrain as well as my own strength. It does not work the same out here as in the garden, there are strict limits. Though, what happened with the first Orc...that was an uncontrolled burn through almost all of my energy. I do not know what my limits or use would be, should I be in my right mind. I suppose that is a question for another day."

"We should return to the Halls, Adonnenniel. Matters in the forest are worse than I'd feared, and it is clearly unsafe." He offered her his hand. Sheepishly she looked at him. "I'm sorry Thranduil, it will take me about an hour even to regain the strength to stand. I realize now you did not need my help, but I couldn't do nothing if it might have aided you."

His heart swelled toward her. _After so long, someone who would give the last of themselves for me. Not because I am King or because of duty, but because I am loved._ He helped her back into her now mostly dry tunic, wrapped her cloak around her, and lifted her to the still-kneeling elk. He mounted also, placing her in front of him. He held her securely as he instructed the animal to rise carefully and return them home.

Nenni rested against him. She knew better than to resist her fatigue; it would only be worse for her if she did. She was also becoming very sore, very fast; the aftereffect of straining against Thranduil in her rage. She called for Beren to follow. Beren had never seen a thing that transpired, having been fed his tidbit as Thranduil returned. She was grateful, sometimes, for the dog's limited range of vision. There were times when what went unnoticed by him was altogether for the best.

Thranduil was careful to keep a sharp lookout as they travelled. Yet they still might converse. "Adonnenniel, would you explain to me how Beren... works? In two ages no one has ever had more awareness of enemy movements than I. Yet you perceived the Orc precious seconds ahead of me, and reacted. How was this done?"

So she explained how the dog hunted, either alone or with others of its kind. She told him of the patterns of his voice and movement and terrain that indicated to her what the most likely scenario would be in given circumstances, especially if trees were involved. How Beren had smelled the Orc before he had located it, but how Nenni understood the probability that the creature was in a tree. "With your consent, Adonnenniel, I think it would be wise to allow Beren to sire others of his kind. While I would not wish them to come to harm, their abilities could save many lives." Nenni sighed.

"They were created to come to harm, bred to hunt the bears of my world. I understood he had the strong instinct to hunt and kill, when I chose him. If something must happen to him, it is better that it be while he does what he loves. His kind are not usually kept as pets, though I did. I live with the two sides of his nature; the companion and the hunter, as you can see. You have my permission."

"They can be fitted with armor to help protect them, much as we do for our horses. We will not make another foray until such is completed for him...and for you. I will not cage you, but prudence dictates ensuring your safety. And my own. Next time we will take better precautions," he said.

 _I'm finally in a video game,_ she thought. _I always thought I was the light armor sort...she laughed at her own inner joke._

"What is amusing?" he asked.

"It is hard to explain. On Earth we had...imagine a large box, with a front of clear glass. And that in the glass, images of any kind could appear. We had such inventions, to entertain ourselves. It was called television. One particular use of a television was to play games, in which the player looked at the screen, and a character inside the box did the player's bidding. It was possible this way to have vicarious experiences and adventures. They were not real, yet seemed very much so. This was called a role playing game. I played these games often; ones that required the use of armor and weaponry, combat and strategy."

"And in what manner did your...character...fight?" he asked, genuinely curious. She laughed again. "I guess I had proclivities. Though I tried to vary my choices, I always ended up with a bow for a primary weapon, and a one-handed sword as a secondary, should I find myself in close combat. There was something so elegant, about picking off an enemy unseen and at a distance. And I laughed, because when you mentioned armor, my characters usually chose light armor. It was a lighthearted way to pass the time. My body is not trained to the use of such weapons, and I know they are skills many years in the learning. Yet in a way, my mind is fond of the idea."

 _It is time,_ Thranduil realized, _to prepare to train her_. While he could not forsee an occurrence when he would not be there to protect her, she deserved the best knowledge she could have to defend herself, if the need arose.

"May I ask you a question, or do you wish to know more about any of these matters?" Nenni inquired.

"You may ask," he smiled, giving her a gentle hug.

"What you did for me today, stopping a flood of painful emotions. Is that a common gift among elves? Because it is a magnificent one. I cannot imagine a greater blessing to receive, as my own often ungovernable mind has been the source of much of of my suffering."

Thranduil thought awhile. "I do not know. It is only the older elves, those of us born in the First Age, who have strong mental abilities. I have wondered, if it is the age of your fëa that grants you the ability you possess; your gift is a mighty one. There are not a great many of us still in Ennorath, most have sailed to the Undying Lands. And of those remaining, only Elrond and Galadriel are well known for their abilities. Lord Elrond for a gift as a healer and his foresight, and the Lady Galadriel for...for being as close to omniscient as is possible without being a Vala. Though it is not openly spoken of, they bear Rings of Power, and these may enhance their gifts. I spent most of my life withdrawn into this forest, isolated, refusing to be drawn into the affairs of others. I now regret this, but cannot change the past. So, I cannot give you an answer."

"I was just reflecting on the power you have to give comfort to others. I still understand so little about the ways and subtleties of elves. I believe it will take me long years to shed the human experiences that shaped me into who I am. But had you lived on Earth, with a gift such as this, you would have been worshipped. It is a place of much sorrow. It is a great mercy; to remove the burden of emotional misery from another."

He'd never thought of this aspect of his gift, but how he knew the truth of her words. Mercy was what the Valar had granted to him, in returning her. And it was, indeed, the greatest blessing he could have received.

"In my world we had drugs, medicines, that could produce similar effects. They could dull anxiety and mental pain considerably. But they were also dangerous and potentially addictive. I think I much prefer your method."

With that, they came within sight of the stables. "Thranduil, will you help me off the elk and hold onto me in a way that strikes more of romance and less of my own immediate condition? I don't want to stumble, nor have you carry me. I believe I can walk well enough if I can hold onto you, and we do not move very fast. I don't wish others to see that I'm indisposed, and have something to discuss."

"I see you are gaining swift insight into being wed to a King," he said. "I understand. It is always wise to project strength to others."

Nenni laughed. "Exactly."

She frowned. "Thranduil, how much affection is it acceptable for me to show you in public? None? Touch or hold your arm or hand? A conservative embrace? A chaste kiss?"

 _She is a marvel_ , he thought. "The rules of decorum in other Elven kingdoms would likely say, that taking my hand or arm once I offer it to you, would be the extent of what is suitable. But my answer to you is, you are never to consider decorum. I forbid you to temper your impulses and affection toward me. I already know you would never act in poor taste. If someone here takes offense, they may trade themselves in a barrel back to Dale. Besides...after centuries of serving me, most of them have not forgotten that it is unwise to incur my annoyance. I will confess, that I do not mind that part."

Craning her neck up to look at his smug expression, she laughed and said, "I hear and obey. And, I do love you."


	18. Chapter 18

Warning, for graphic violence. Animals being killed. Descriptions of self-harm.

[Firith 52-53 Imladris, November 21-22, Gregorian]

Predictably, Nenni fell asleep not very long after they returned home. They slipped through the garden tunnels, but not before Thranduil asked for a guard, to report their dual encounters in the forest to the chain of the defensive command of the Palace.

Thranduil steered her, suggesting a dip in the heated pool so that he could wash her properly. He knew full well that the warm water would relax her, and that the scented soaps and his massaging of her now painful muscles would do the rest. When she climbed out of the pool to dry off and rest a moment on the bed, she was lost to slumber. She had told him of her soreness, which was no surprise, given how hard she'd struggled against him. He treated her muscles further with salve as she slept. After covering her with a light blanket, he stayed near her, enjoying his wine. A few hours into her sleep, the old dream came over her.

 _It was Sunday morning, and she walked outside to her pen of pet chickens. They had moved here only a few months ago, and so much yet needed to be done. But Michael had already built a sturdy pen with a gate, to protect the birds. She had names for all of them, and loved them and their gentle manners. When she arrived at the gate to offer them treats, she saw that every one of them was dead, torn to pieces. Blood and feathers littered the ground, and there, still trapped in the pen, was the neighbor's dog. She and Michael had already complained twice to the owner, that the dog was coming over and harassing the birds, and the nasty man refused to do a thing about it. 'City people, what did they know?' was the attitude the man had toward them. Even though the law was on their side, and was clear about the consequences for keeping a dog that killed livestock._

 _Nenni ran back to the house in a blind rage. She grabbed the shotgun and a handful of shells, and raced back out to the pen. This dog had just killed all her beloved birds...all of them. It barked at her, fearful. She loaded the gun and pulled the trigger. Again, and again, she reloaded and fired. She wasn't experienced with guns, and didn't know how to kill the animal quickly. The dog screamed in agony; the sound carried for a mile. With an ice cold heart, she reloaded one last time, holding the barrel point blank against the suffering animal's head, and pulled the trigger. It was over. And still Nenni stood there, shaking with fury that was beginning to break. She screamed in her outrage, and her guilt._

Nenni woke, but she was caught in the net of this old nightmare she had relived at least a hundred times. She could see the images as with her waking eyes. Still she cried, the pain of it as fresh in her mind as the day it had actually happened.

Thranduil, sensing something was badly amiss, rushed to her. He immediately blanketed her mind to stop her torment. He soothed her as she clung to him and became quiet, finally falling back to sleep. He saw enough of the disjointed images her mind to perceive that she had been seized by the memory of another violent, emotional encounter in which she had killed in uncontrolled anger. In protection. In revenge. If he had to guess, the trigger was a threat or harm done to anything or anyone she'd grown to love. Her psyche was plainly not designed to ever cope with this, and the times she had been brought to this place of experience had scarred her deeply. He could not keep simply muting these distressing images for her; he had to eliminate the hold they had taken on her mind.

It hurt him, as the depths of her mental anguish revealed themselves to him. But not only because of the pity he felt. He was now required, on a deeper level, to confront the despair he'd felt on losing her in the first place. His new insight was requiring him to face a painful reality: His torment, that he had long enshrined in his thoughts as an unfair judgement meted out to him alone, was not new in the world. His experience had not been remotely unique. If Nenni had lived a typical human life, then even the most ordinary of Edain knew suffering at least the measure of his own, and as a matter of routine. And he, with all the gifts of the Eldar, had turned to a sorry course. He'd justified becoming bitter, uncaring, and arrogant. He had thought himself superior, thought his life and that of his people had more worth than those of all of the other races. What a fool he had been, to somehow concoct these assumptions. This woman had suffered, also undeservedly, and forged out of it a pliant and delicate heart. And here they both were. Needy, damaged, yet miraculously able to help each other. She was not only a wife to a King, she would be a partner. Different, and yet equal. He rocked her gently with love, gratitude, and remorse, as she slept on.

He hadn't told her, but he had been proud of her today. While it was true that she needed to gain mastery over these descents into blind rage, she had shown uncommon courage and fierce love. She had a sense of duty and did not cower or show fear. And she had cleverness, too, to use what weapons were at her disposal. Unquestionably, she was not squeamish, he thought, with some amusement. They had much to discuss, in the light of day. Until his own mind quieted, and he slept, he sent her his thoughts of love, and calm. He would allow no more evil dreams to disturb her rest.

When Nenni woke the following morning, she was surprised to find Thranduil holding her, and that the crook of his arm had been her pillow. Not that she minded, but she vaguely wondered why. She stirred a little bit, sighing, reaching up to lightly grasp his arm. As a new round of sleep engulfed her, he determined that she would wake to pleasure, not pain. With incremental slowness, he moved her into into a suitable position under the covers. When she was laid out on her back, he gently reached down to massage between her legs; lightly, so as not to wake her. At the same time, he sent thoughts of desire, arousal, and a longing for him into her mind, allowing some shapeless dream to form. Her body slowly warmed under his touches, and she began to stir a little. As the heat in her belly increased, she emerged into that place between sleep and wakefulness. She was already fully ready for his body to join with hers, as her mind sought release with him from a place of dreaming. Mostly unaware of her own movements, she reached over to him.

Because of his connection to her, he recognized it for the invitation that it was. Still careful not to wake her, he covered her with his body and entered her in a cadence that matched the images in her sleeping mind. He felt her inhale in satisfaction. His smallest motions were amplified in her thoughts, as he saw that she pleasantly dreamed of lovemaking with him. After long minutes, she entered a far more wakeful state, burning with arousal. She whispered only "Please", imploring him for her release. Still with great gentleness, he matched the need of her waking mind until he delivered her into the throes of her orgasm. Connected to her in body and mind, he could respond to every nuance of her desire. As he relished his success, he felt her mind shift. _More._ She now wanted to experience his own release, inside of her. And, she was not merely being accommodating. Her desire to feel his pleasure had a fierceness that surprised him. This was a manner in which she took his masculinity into herself; a spiritual connection with him. She wanted to feel his urgency for her, his passion, and the virility of his body. This awareness set him aflame, and he vigorously responded to her yearnings. He ravished her body as he felt her waking mind engage with him, urging him on as he thrust inside of her. He felt her open her spirit to draw in his own, he felt her desire for his own climax, both for the pleasure of her own rising heat and...a thought of impregnation? Did she desire a child from him? But, that did not match the impressions he received. The bringing forth of new life was not what she wished. It was a longing for something to be healed; something was missing, that she sought for her psyche. As he neared his release, he felt her reach her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He could hold back no longer, as a guttural moan came from him. She arched up to receive him, as a second ecstasy more powerful than the first took her.

Eventually she regained her senses, fully awake now. She turned her gaze to him, full of appreciation. "I do not know what I ever did to deserve you, but I am most grateful."

The low rumble of his amusement echoed through his chest, as his fingers traced through her long hair.

"Do you feel rested?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I feel better than rested, husband, thanks to your attentions," she said smiling.

They rose, dressed, and ate. She looked on as he helped himself from a steaming bowl of cooked oats, raising an eyebrow. She watched him add cream, a little butter, dried fruits, and honey. She had an idea, and would visit the kitchens later on. _Granola_ , she thought.

"Tomorrow, Adonnenniel, if your resolve in this matter remains, I would return to my duties. With you at my side. Do you still wish to meet with the councillors?"

Unhesitatingly, she answered him: "I do. Yet there is one matter that I have long been considering, and I cannot decide on a proper course.

I feel that I must speak to them of the garden. But from the first, I envisioned that none would pass inside those walls, save the two of us, and Beren. I feel that in order to ensure your councillors understand what is possible there, they must see it for themselves. They must understand what has already been done, and what is possible. Only then can they achieve consensus on how to move forward, to meet the goal of filling the storage capacity of the caverns. It is outside of their experience, and verbally describing it will not have enough of an impact. The needs of your people are more important than my wants for a large, private sanctuary. I ask for your guidance, in this; I will abide by your judgement as to what is best."

Thranduil considered. "Your wishes are reasonable, and your willingness to let them enter at all is generous. I would not have required it of you, but agree that a single visit would go far in this matter. I will help you, to move your stored goods to the southern passage; the others then need never pass beyond the western door nor come near to our chambers."

"Then it is settled," she said. "I will look to you for aid tomorrow, should I arrive at a place with them from which I do not know how to proceed. I only need now some instruction on how to navigate introductions, how to address them, how to behave. I do not wish my ignorance of protocol to detract from what must be said."

He informed her of what she needed to know, then brought out another box for her to open. "This is for you, and I am afraid it must be the first of many. Your station will require garments suited to several subtly different occasions. Yet, they must also reflect your individuality. It is clear to me that you will be far more than an ornament at my side, Adonnenniel. You have made it your purpose to work to the benefit of all of us. Out of respect for this, I asked for these to be designed with a eye to attractiveness, but also to allow you complete freedom of movement."

Nenni admired the garments. This one was made clever use of apple greens and shades of purple, a color combination she loved. The style had no trailing cloth that might hinder her. The cut had much in common with her work clothes, but rendered in far finer fabrics and detail. Her connection to the King would be clear, yet she could work at the less messy tasks in the garden wearing this, without fearing harm to them.

"There is an accessory," he said, procuring a smaller box, which contained a very delicate circlet of silver steel. It had a patterning that matched her wedding rings, with a single dainty teardrop emerald that would rest on her forehead, just below her hairline.

The expression in her eyes spoke her delight, and he placed it on her head. So well crafted was it, she could not feel its presence.

"Adonnenniel." His voice became far more serious. "A day will come, when you have had the time necessary to adjust, learn, and grow into the fullness of your life here. I will then ask you if you would rule at my side as Queen. The decision to accept this, or not, will remain with you, and I will find no fault with you should you choose to remain as my consort. I tell you this now so that you may consider the experiences you will have outside these chambers, with a view to this possible future."

Nenni looked at him. While she had not expected this, the thought did not frighten her. Though it probably should. "My Lord, you would not have spoken of this, were it not your desire. I will bend myself to whatever manner in which I might best serve you. I do have some concerns, and as time goes on, I will speak of them, and leave them with you. You will have my best efforts, as you already have my full trust. Thank you, Thranduil, for these gifts and your generosity." She took the items and stored them carefully in her chamber.

"Adonnenniel, if you are certain you have fully recovered from yesterday, I wondered if we might converse," gesturing for her to join him on the bench near the sunny balcony. The season was moving into late autumn, and the air had grown colder. Though she did not feel the chill as intensely as she did in her Edain body, she still welcomed his invitation to enter the warmth of his silken robes.

"In the past day, my mind was connected to yours for long stretches of time. I did this out of need to aid you, and because of the permission you granted me earlier. I must know, before I go any further, whether you still consent fully to this level of my joining to you?" he asked.

"You have, and always will have, my permission. There is nothing I would keep from you. And where would I be, without the aid you have given me already?"

Thranduil nodded. He next asked carefully, "Adonnenniel, do you recall your dreams of last night?"

Nenni looked at him, surprised. "No, I do not. I have no memory of dreaming anything. Which is odd, because I usually remember my dreams vividly."

Thranduil smiled. "You do not remember, because I kept it the memory of it from you. It was not a pleasant dream. I would like to ask you about what I saw, to understand better, if you are willing? About some of these things, I am merely curious. About others, I wish to help you, if you will allow it. You carry heavy burdens, Adonnenniel. I would help you cast them off."

"Ask me anything," she replied, now more than a little curious herself.

"First...Adonnenniel, you have never spoken to me of children. Have you left children behind, on Earth? Do you desire a child?" He asked this with all the tenderness his voice would allow.

He felt her stiffen, and moved to bring her closer to him. "Come inside, once again," she said. "I need for you to feel this along with me; words alone are not enough to impart this." She brought his hand to her face, but continued to speak. "Do you feel this, this lack of feeling? Of thoughts in my head, with no love, no liking, no disliking, just a sense of moving through time with no emotions at all?"

"Yes," he answered.

"This was my relationship to my parents, the people who raised me. As a child, I knew no love for them, no affection. Nor dislike nor animosity, at least at first. You are feeling the memories of my earliest childhood recollections. When I was a very small, and the other girls played with dolls and pretended they were mothers, I did not. The idea had no appeal to me whatsoever. Much later, I learned that the people who raised me were not the parents who gave birth to me. They had adopted me, but decided between them to forever keep this a secret. It was very wrong of them to do this, and it caused me a great deal of doubt, and feelings of not belonging.

To make a long story shorter, something happened to me, emotionally. I was denied the chance to have the parents that nature intended; and in consequence, attached myself to no one. But it went further than that. My adoptive parents were very damaged people, filled with small-mindedness and ignorance. Though, they cared for me in what ways they knew how, and loved me such as they could understand love. Their mean-spiritedness repulsed me. From earliest childhood, I determined that I would never be a mother, never expose another young life to the misery I endured from them." As Nenni spoke, she weaved in her memories and feelings for him to see.

"Later on, I married a man who was a poor choice, in my inexperience. I had never wanted children, but became doubly determined that I would never have a child with him. I grew to despise him, for his arrogance and emotional neglect. On Earth, they can surgically alter the body, to destroy the reproductive ability of a man or a woman. I chose to have the most drastic of these procedures done to me, and never regretted my decision. As the years went on, many friends began their families. I sometimes felt grief. Grief not to ever know the same happiness, grief to have deliberately and irreversibly pushed aside the chance to create and nurture a life. Though the feelings were painful, they always passed quickly. I feared so much, that the damage done to my emotions would be something I would pass along to my child. A child deserves to feel loved, and I was too afraid that I would not be able to provide this, much in the same way I was not able to love the people who raised me. I wished that none of it had ever happened, that I could have felt like other women did. But there is nothing to be done and..." Nenni froze with sudden realization, raising her eyes to Thranduil with grief.

"Thranduil, I am so sorry. I never told you of this before I wedded with you. I never thought to ask you if you desired children from me, and to my knowledge, my body cannot conceive. What have I done?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Adonnenniel, no. You have done nothing wrong. Be at peace," he said, driving the grief from her mind. "I did not ask about this for myself. Your fëa brought forth Legolas to me long ago, though your mind cannot yet recall it. I wanted to understand what happened to you, in your human life. Most elleth bear only one child. I do not know if the Valar have returned this gift to your body, which is not the same one in which you arrived here. Ellith conceive only when they wish to. I am content with our life as it is, and I would be content should you one day desire a child. Do not let this matter weigh on your heart, when there is no need." He felt her nod her head, as he calmed her.

"You are right. And once again, thank you." _The man is a walking Xanax tablet_ , she thought.

"There is something else. I would like to explore what happened yesterday, with the Orc, if you are willing. I will eliminate the intensity of the feelings you had, when it happened. It is time that these emotions lose their ability to control you."

She looked at him with a tinge of fear in her eyes, yet she saw the truth of his words. She nodded her assent.

"Adonnenniel, last night you dreamed of something that happened on Earth. A dog had killed birds that you cared for. You were filled with rage, much like yesterday, and retrieved a weapon I do not know. You killed the dog in great anger, and yet it tore your heart to do so. I believe this is a vision you could not forget, that reaches out to you even here. I wish for you to tell me of every time you ever killed on Earth. Tell me the first time you killed. I am with you, and will not let you suffer in the telling."

She thankfully felt his calm smother the first surge of her recollections. She breathed deeply. "As you wish. I was fourteen or fifteen years old. I worked for a veterinarian, an animal healer. I had the opportunity to learn to end the lives of animals that were old, ill, or suffering. We would inject a drug that would send the animal painlessly into sleep, and stop its heart. This practice is called Euthanasia, a word that means to give a good death. I was drawn to this, in an unhealthy manner..." she trailed off.

Thranduil saw another image flash by, one of a profound loss that had grieved her intensely as a child. "Adonnenniel," he asked with great gentleness, "what was that I saw? What did you lose?" He maintained a careful hold on her emotions, as he felt her remember.

"There was a horse. I loved horses. They were all I wished for in my life; to learn to ride, to enjoy their beauty, to merely be around them. You have to understand that as a child, the only emotional attachments I could form were with animals. I developed a fierce love for this horse. And my dog; I had a dog as a child. These two animals were my entire emotional world. And one day the horse died. It was a sport animal, partially owned by my father. She shattered her leg, in a racing event, and had to be euthanized. This injury was not something that could be repaired, at the time.

My life changed forever that day. I had no guidance, no one to help me understand or grieve. My father told me to never speak of it. I became filled with hatred for others. I blamed the world of my father for this having happened, and devised endless torments for myself. I would not let myself forget, I felt that it would dishonor the memory of the creature I'd loved. It was my first experience with death, and sowed the seeds of a serious illness in my mind, a form of despair that never lifts. I could not cope with the injustice of dying, of loss, and with no one to aid me, I was emotionally set adrift. I think much could have been different, if my parents had possessed any measure of wisdom. But they did not.

As the weeks and months wore on, I became obsessed with the inevitability that my dog, the only living being I loved, would one day also die. Each night I would fall asleep, crying in misery over this. It went on for years. These obsessive thoughts were incredibly unhealthy, and a poor choice on which to dwell. But these are the directions the mind of a child will travel, bereft of assistance or counsel. By the time I was learning the skill of euthanasia, my spirit was already very damaged. Broken. I kept all these thoughts inside of myself, locked away. No one knew. I'd learned long ago to hide my feelings from my parents, though I lived with emotional pain daily that not everyone survives.

My revulsion toward them only grew with the passage of time, especially toward my father, but I had no choice other than to dissemble. On Earth, children are subject to their parents until a certain age, and I had nowhere else to go. The last two or so years of my living with them, I do not think a day passed in which I didn't long to die. I would use knives to cut myself open. I would beat on sharp walls with my fists to see my hands bleed. This should have been a visible sign to my family that I was in danger, but again, they had no wisdom and asking for help outside of our family would have reflected poorly on them. To this day I am uncertain as to why, or how, I lived through that time. I believe it was a hope, that once I could leave their home, that things could get better."

As she'd spoken, he'd felt the surges of her feelings, that threatened to break through his protections. This was much worse than he'd imagined. It had not been easy to govern himself through her words, because he understood all too keenly, concerning much of what she spoke. She was only a child, whereas he had lived for centuries before facing his own loss. He continued to soothe her. "None of this can harm you any longer, Adonnenniel, I will not allow it. You have much courage; I know you would tell me these things even if you suffered for it." Thranduil continued, "What of your father? What was he like? He had much anger?"

Nenni laughed, "You might say that. A relative used to say, he had 'a short fuse with a lot under it'; a reference to an explosive devices that could be easily ignited. I did not speak of my father to many people, because most would not have been able to believe me. They would have thought I was lying, or exaggerating, to gain attention. He was profoundly emotionally ill, and sought to control others through fear and anger. Dad believed he had a right to have authority over others, and used intimidation and a reputation for violent behavior to achieve it. He was paranoid, he glorified hatred and suspicion toward others, and took great pride in his ability to physically fight. He believed that he could and should assure the ordering of his world through brutality, and relished his view of himself as a violent man. I think you know enough of me to realize why constant exposure to such a person was very harmful to me. And yet, the worst of it is, I believe that some part of him ingrained itself in me. I think there is a connection between the years of exposure to this...mentality... and what happens to me once I become enraged. Is it possible to hate something and be that same thing, deep inside of oneself? I was ashamed to be this man's child. And I am equally ashamed to find something of him in me, even now. I do not know what to do. I have never known what to do."

Still Thranduil held her mind, not allowing her to feel anything other than a dispassionate calm. "Thank you, Adonnenniel. Now, please, resume speaking of the occasions on which you experienced death, or on which you killed."

She searched her memories, and spoke to him of the day she euthanized her own dog, the culmination of all her fears and misery. And her first cat, and how much she'd enjoyed him, and the hole torn in her heart the day he'd become too sick to live any longer. Though she did not euthanize the cat, she held him as it was done. There had been a litany of pets, all of them miserable experiences for her.

"Why", he asked,"did you keep bonding with these creatures, even when you knew you must soon lose them?"

Her answer was swift. "Because there was also love, and joy. It would not have occurred to me to forego one just because I knew I would suffer the other. It is the injustice and the inescapable reality of being human. We love, and we lose, and we love again. There are great volumes of thinking and reflection, art and song, dedicated to this matter. People on Earth believe in gods that have reasons for the existence of death in the world. I always struggled against it, and I was not alone. I could not accept any such gods, or the monstrous cruelty. And yet, I cannot understand all things. I walked away from such discussions, because they brought me no benefit. I simply tried to learn to find and do what good I could with the time I was given, and accept pain as the price of living.

I will be honest, I have barely allowed myself to think on the gift of immortality now given to me, because much of me cannot yet accept or believe it. I fear I will find it was untrue, and have all my former sorrows return to me. I am deeply grateful to the Valar for their gifts, but still I struggle. I have chosen to trust that with time, I will arrive at a better understanding. But, back to your original question to me.

The last stage in all this was, moving to the farm, and learning to kill animals for meat. I was not raised to hunt or do work of this kind, as my childhood was spent as far from farms and farming as one could imagine. I went through a time of exploration. I was working to understand the realities of where food comes from on Earth. I knew that animal meat is not something that magically appears at mealtime; a creature is killed to provide it. On Earth, most persons are insulated from the direct relationship between killing and food to eat. The animals are killed and prepared for eating by those whose job it is to do so, in order that the sensibilities of those who will eat the meat are not offended. I suppose you could say that I wanted to offend my own sensibilities; I wanted to understand all of this process, and understand the price of the food on my table. I also believed I could help, in my own small way, by ensuring that the animals in my charge suffered no pain, no fear. This was more than the animals killed elsewhere received.

So I learned to kill. I became proficient at it. Blood and body parts have never disturbed me; they are the mechanics of life. But the act of killing was difficult. My first time, I cried, even though I knew the animal did not suffer. As time went on, even though I was able, I chose more often not to, and left it to others. Killing is only easy when I am enraged about something, or when I can see that it is necessary to end suffering. I envied my friends that had been raised on farms, and for whom the act of taking animal life did not seem terribly bothersome. I have never hunted because I would take no pleasure in it; I could likely only manage it if I truly had no other choice. Yet once a creature is dead, I am happy to prepare it for eating, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I even enjoy it." She paused. "I make no sense to myself, Thranduil. Yet unless I am being forgetful, this is the extent of the matter; it is all the information I can provide to you."

Thranduil thanked her. "Adonnenniel, with your permission, I would now invite you inside of my mind. If you are willing, I would like you to feel the act of killing as I experience it, and not as you have. I would like to provide you with a different reference."

"I'll try anything", she replied, a little curious. He brought her hand to his face, and began with the events of yesterday. She saw his battle against the Orcs, through his eyes. His mind had only been on his sword art, he had no emotional connection to his actions. She saw him hunt, with respect and acknowledgement of the deer he killed, but no painful feelings. He even allowed her visions from what must have been his fighting in Dale in the last great battle, against far more enemies. Again, only the calm detachment of what he must do rested on his memories. There was nothing of her own turmoil. The visions ended.

"Not to trivialize this, but I could kill all day at necessity, possessed of your demeanor. I wish I understood how it is possible."

"It is possible," he replied, "because I never suffered such damage to my emotions at a young age. You were never able to form a normal perspective. Please forgive any seeming harshness from these words, nothing about this was your fault. You were robbed of a chance to develop properly. But I equally believe that exposing you to a healthy set of feelings, while severing your connections to what never should have been in the first place, can restore your well-being in this matter. We treat pain by not allowing it to begin; if allowed to form roots, it spreads," he explained.

Filled with reflections on what he'd said, she stood up to rearrange herself. When she resumed her seat on his lap, it was in a position that brought her closer to his eye level. "And you are giving to me what you could not give to yourself, in the past, aren't you?" It was far more statement than question, as she bored into his gaze with her own. He was taken aback at the level of her insight, but did not demure.

"Yes," was his simple answer.

She held his face in her hands, smiling, sending him the thoughts of her love and thankfulness. _I would do anything for you, she told him. Anything._ She ran her fingers through his beautiful hair, twirling a long strand in her fingers. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, and rose up. "I don't know about you, but wine seems to be in order."

She returned with two goblets. Seating herself again, she asked "is there more you wish to discuss on these matters?"

"No...and Yes," he answered slowly, rotating the goblet in his fingers. "In our time together, you have opened yourself freely to me. And I have not done the same. I believed that I had suffered more than you, and that the burdens of my past were not something you needed to add to your own. What I have seen in the past two days, in you, has corrected what remained of my assumptions. Your courage far outweighs my own. I am afraid, Adonnenniel. Afraid of what you will think. Yet the same fear did not stop you from opening yourself to me. It is time I move beyond this." He set down his goblet.

Thranduil raised his eyes to her and held out his hands. "Will you enter my mind?"

Nenni turned to face him fully. "Thranduil, are you certain this is what you desire? It is not a competition, between us. There is no need to force yourself into an intimacy you do not yet fully embrace."

He did not answer her but instead placed her hands to his face. It was perhaps true that he was not ready, but he did not know if he ever would be.

"Then show me what troubles you most, and all the rest besides, and be free of it," she said, holding his gaze. She tried to prepare herself for the one thing she was not certain she was ready to see either; her own death by the dragon.

And it came. His memory of Ancalagon exceeded anything she could have guessed at. Its size, its terrible gaze, and the crushing aura of its malice. She could not grasp that anything could be so... massive. And yet Thranduil had stood his ground before it, not flinching or cowering even as it took everything from him. His pain had been terrible. She witnessed her own death with an odd sense of detachment; this moment had been far worse for him. He revealed his eventual pettiness, and his attempts to drown his sufferings in what hedonisms he could allow himself. Yes, there had been arrogance, and uncaring, and utter lack of regard for the feelings of others, as he fed his torment with a steady diet of self-indulgence and the ill-treatment of others...just because he could.

Yet as the parade went on, she could also sense the hollowness that built inside of him. He'd already realized that none of it was helping, but he did not know how to break habits ingrained with long usage. Finally she saw his elleth Captain, Tauriel, confront him, and the outcomes of that day. There had been no speeches on her part, just a simple accusation. He'd needed so little, just a final nudge, to correct his own course. And from what she'd seen of life, this was an astounding journey to contrition. He'd gone far off course, which made his nearly self-accomplished correction remarkable. Nenni was so lost in her reflections on him that she almost failed to notice that the images had stopped. Her attention snapped back to him. His eyes implored her for a response.

"Thranduil," she spoke near to a whisper. "It is so easy, for all of us, to see only the ways in which we went wrong. I believe you have made the same mistake as many. You have failed to see the extraordinary ways in which you went right. I hope you will forgive me these words; they are meant in the highest esteem. This is one of the most human experiences I have ever witnessed. You brought yourself back from a place from which most simply cannot escape. It shows the strength of your heart, and your mind. I am honored to be the wife of such a man."

"Adonnenniel, your words are kind, as always. But I do not see what you find to admire. To me it is a catalogue of shame." He hung his head.

Nenni sighed. "Then I will tell you a story, a teaching from a man of great wisdom." She searched her mind hard, to remember the words as best she could:

 _There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them. Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. "When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.' So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate. Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.' The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!' 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'_

Nenni held his face so that he had to look into her eyes. "Thranduil, this story is properly called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The Lost Son. It is your story. Do you understand? Like the first son, you made very poor choices. And also like him, a time came when you recognized the creeping futility of what you'd become. You had to suffer more losses, to cause you to fully realize the need to change your ways. But, almost unaided, you did change. You repented of the path you were walking. Yes, it would have been better had you been like the second son, never straying from what was best in the first place. But the father in the tale showed the most prudence, because he understood the rarity, the miracle, of a person returning from a death of spirit to be restored to health. This is what I see in you. That you were rather awful, for a very long time, carries little weight with me. That you turned your heart around to become who you are now...that is everything. Feel my mind, Thranduil, and see that I am not merely being kind. You and I are much alike, husband. We are both very adept at punishing ourselves. You must forgive yourself. You cannot smother my pain and insist upon clinging to your own. If you cannot let it go, then I must insist that you stop helping me. We will both live with our demons together, until you feel ready to move on. I will not leave you behind, in a place of fear and doubt."

Thranduil's eyes widened. He'd been outmaneuvered, and he knew it. He did not want her to be right, but the truth of her words was irrefutable. His shoulders and head dropped in defeat.

"Say it, Thranduil. Aloud. The Valar forgive you. I forgive you. Now tell it to yourself."

How could a handful of words be so excruciatingly hard to utter? He took a very deep breath and spoke: "I forgive myself for having done all these past wrongs. I forgive my-" He made it no further, and dissolved into weeping.

Nenni held him. She had never been so proud of anyone as she was of him, in that moment. _Courage wears many faces_ , she thought.

He calmed in time, and she resumed her seat; returning his wine to his hand and leaning against him. He placed his arm around her, and turned to kiss her on the top of her head. "There is a part of me," he said with a much lighter voice, "that almost feels sorry for the councillors tomorrow. Perhaps I should warn them of your tactical skills."

She laughed, setting her goblet down. "Then I must ensure your silence." Whereupon, his lips were sealed by her own.

Note: Quoted passage is from the gospel according to Luke 15:11-32


	19. Chapter 19

[Firith 53 Imladris, November 22, Gregorian]

Nenni regarded her husband in the fading light of late afternoon. They each understood, without need for elaboration, that these hours of weighty conversation had lifted serious impediments from both of them. The day their bodies first joined had been one of joyous discovery, but could hardly compare to the risk, and intimacy, of baring themselves to the other. They both knew truly, that each had looked to the depths of the other, and emerged with healing and strength. A needle now could not have found room to slip between the tightly wound cords of their love. There would be stumbles on the road ahead; such things were part of life. But they would now walk on together, each in possession of a measure of healing. What was broken in them, had been set on a path toward wholeness. Nenni reached for Thranduil, overcome with these reflections, and the sense of relief and happiness that filled her. Whether he'd read the same from her, or had similar thoughts of his own, he returned her embrace. He rose up and lifted her to perch in his arms, as they both laughed for the exhilaration of their new freedom from their troubles.

"I feel like celebrating," Thranduil told her. Still holding her, he rang for Galion. The steward appeared quickly.

"How may I be of service, my Lord?" he asked deferentially, his eyes lowered.

"Look at me, Galion," Thranduil said, kindly. As the steward raised his eyes to the King, he saw the queen seated in his arms. Thranduil continued. "In all your long years of service to me I have never once thanked you for your care, and your unwavering loyalty. I am sorry, and I ask your forgiveness for this. I hoped I could ask now, if you would please procure an especially nice meal for Adonnenniel and myself, and pour my best wine. If you would also please notify the trade councillors that I wish to meet with them tomorrow, at the sixth bell following the first meal. Adonnenniel and I will breakfast in the Great Hall. After you bring our meal, please take the rest of the afternoon and evening off, to do as you choose."

Galion's eyes widened and the blood drained from his face. His lips parted in shock. Struggling mightily to recover his flawless decorum, he bowed deeply to the King, replying, "There is nothing to forgive, my Lord. All will be done as you have asked. Thank you, my Lord." With those words, he departed the chamber swiftly. Once outside, he stopped to lean into the cool stone wall. He brushed away a small tear that had formed at the corner of one eye, working to collect himself. As he continued on his way, smoothing his clothing, of one thing he was certain. This meal would be perfection.

After the door had been closed a few moments, Nenni could not resist commenting. "I think you may have just, as we would have said on Earth, made his head explode. That was a fine thing, to speak such kind words to him."

Thranduil laughed ruefully. "I'm afraid your assessment is correct, and regrettably reveals much concerning just how many things I must yet remedy."

"Then come with me," she said. "It will take him some time to do as you instructed. Let us have a basket of fruit for him, when he returns. And, the stores in the western passage will not move themselves. I believe we can make a dent in it, if we work together a bit now, and in the morning. Does that meet with your approval?" He swept her up in response, and carried her, giggling, to the passage. They worked swiftly for most of an hour, and returned to await the imminent arrival of their meal.

"This thought of dinner was brilliant on your part, Thranduil, as I am now wasting away from the pangs of starvation," she joked.

Galion appeared shortly, and swiftly laid out an attractive setting and arranged the covered dishes for them. As he bowed to them before departing, Nenni stopped him and pressed the basket of her fruits into his hands. He would only respond as he ever did, with great formality. "Thank you, my Lord, my Lady." But Nenni and Thranduil both saw the gratitude in his eyes. Even stoic Galion could not hide everything.

They ate in merry conversation, aided considerably by the potent and redoubtable vintage. "I am eternally grateful, Thranduil, that you are a lover of wines and not ales. While I enjoy ales on rare occasion, it brings far more happiness to share appreciation of a subtle and refined beverage. Though, lovers of ale would find much to argue with in my assertion."

Thranduil laughed. "We are Elves, not Dwarves. We would need to journey to visit King Dain, to lose ourselves in such brews."

Nenni paused. "Could we, Thranduil, someday? Could we visit the Dwarves? I should very much like to see more of this world, if it is possible."

Thranduil considered. "Soon the snows of winter will be upon us, closing the paths. But yes, in the springtime, when the roads open, we might." Rolling his eyes, he grimaced. "Speaking of relationships in need of repair..."

She chuckled. "I believe I could help you in this. Or thoroughly mortify you; it would depend. There was a side to me, on Earth, that could have been described as...quite Dwarvish. I think I would enjoy them very much...for a visit of a few days, mind you. I am not made to go on for too long in such a manner. I will entrust it to you. I would give much, to see Erebor with my own eyes. I even wish to see the remains of the dragon, if that does not offend. I hope you can forgive me this, I mean no dishonor to your sufferings or the sufferings of others. I cannot digest what such a creature must have been like, in size or might. There were great beasts of the ancient world, on Earth, the dinosaurs. Humans dug their preserved bones from the ground, and assembled their skeletons. It filled me with awe, to look on them."

"I take no offense. Your curiosity is natural, if unusual, to our thinking. It may be best to speak of a desire to look on the dragon only to me. I will send word to Dain by messenger, to ask if we may visit in the spring, that I might introduce my queen. That alone will keep him in eager anticipation all this winter." Thranduil smiled, amused at the image in his mind.

Nenni rose up. "Well, this is as good an opportunity as any. This has been a blessed day, and we have the evening yet to enjoy. I have been working on a little something I thought might please you. Bring your wine." She led him over to two seats by the fire, where a small table of suitable height was placed nearby. Darting into her chamber, she returned with an object he did not recognize. Setting it down on the small table, she explained.

"This is a chess set. A really awful chess set, because my carving skills leave much to be desired, but I can improve it over time. For now, it serves the purpose."

"What does it do?" he asked, picking up and examining the strange pieces.

"It is an Earth game of military strategy, played between two people. Mastery of chess is held in the highest regard. Skill at this game is considered a mark of great intelligence and analytical thinking; bookshelves have been written on the subject. You will find that I lack any mastery whatsoever, though perhaps with practice I might improve. It requires a cunning mind, anticipation, thinking many moves ahead and having alternate plans. Honestly, I'm awful at it, but that has never stopped me from enjoying playing. You are clearly skilled in warfare, and I thought you might find this amusing."

"Please go on," he asked, his interest piqued. She went on to show that each player has an army equal to their opponent's; the name of each piece, and how it moves. "The eight pawns are the foot soldiers, with the greatest limitations", as she demonstrated how the piece was played. Next are the knights, the bishops and the rooks, which move thus. The queen is the mightiest piece on the board for ability, but it is only the capture of your opponent's king, while preserving your own, that wins the game. Only one piece may occupy a square at a time, except in the act of capturing your opponent's piece. The player who has the light colored pieces always begins the game, and play alternates between each of us. You move, I move, you move, I move." Nenni also explained castling. "Would you like to try and play through a sample game, to get the feel of it?"

Thranduil nodded, fascinated. Nenni turned the board so that he had the light colored pieces and therefore the first move. She coached him a little, reminding him that he could choose to move any pawn one or two squares forward, or a knight. Looking at him, she could swear she saw gears turning inside his head. _Perhaps I have just created a monster_ , she mused. He grasped the overview of the game swiftly. Too swiftly. Nenni did not particularly try to think out any strategy whatsoever the first time, and it did not take Thranduil as many moves as she would have suspected to place her king in a checkmate. Nenni laughed. "I sense I am in deep trouble. I will have to try much harder, just to keep up with you." She also added that there was a form of play that used timekeepers; casual games could go on for a very long time if each player was allowed all the time they wished to consider the next move. "Do you enjoy this enough to give me a chance to try harder?" Nenni asked.

Thranduil smiled and nodded eagerly. "This is wonderful," he said. "An ingenious mental challenge. Thank you, for this gift."

"You are most welcome," she said, filling his goblet and her own. "I would imagine that any of your wood or metal artisans could craft a lovely chess set. There were boards and pieces of surpassing beauty on Earth. The shapes of the pieces would be altered to suit the owner. For example, the pieces might be carved to resemble real bodies of animals or persons. Or might incorporate precious metals, jewels or crystals. Really, the imagination was the limit of the possibilities."

"Perhaps that is worth looking into. But I would always cherish this one, as it came from you. May we play again?"

"Of course," as she reset the pieces in their places. This time, she was very careful, and tried her hardest. He still had her beaten in twelve moves. Sighing, she smiled at him. "I warned you. Clearly, you have a strong aptitude for the thinking this game requires. We shall play as often as you like, and I would welcome your suggestions on how I could improve."

Thranduil smiled, delighted with his victories. "You are a good sport, Adonnenniel. I would be annoyed, in your position."

"You are only saying this because you have not yet seen the memory of when I upended a game board upon realizing I was going to lose," laughing at her recollection. "I can be very competitive. But I have found that giving in to the urge to best someone only keeps me from thinking clearly. And as you can see, my best efforts at thinking clearly are currently insufficient." She took a large swig of wine, deciding that at this point it could not worsen her skills by much.

Nenni thought a bit more. "Thranduil, if you enjoy this game, do you think King Dain would as well? You have to admit, a chess set would make a unique and interesting gift. In fact, have several made. A grand one for the King, and lesser ones for the enjoyment of those connected to him. From what I've read of their skill, they should manage to craft as many as they wish. There would be all winter, for your talented subjects to work on them. I would think having a mind for this sort of thing goes with the job description of King. I have a vision of an entire Dwarven kingdom, seized by chess madness in front of their hearths, while munching on our apples and almonds. And swigging ale. How could that not improve diplomatic relations?"

He thought a moment as she laughed at the idea. "That is quite possibly the most brilliant suggestion I've ever heard. I think he would like this, a great deal. Besides, I'd have months yet to work out strategies on how to beat him. That would annoy him, please me, and in theory no one would get killed."

"Only if you promise to let me to teach him first, so that he can have the satisfaction of winning a time or two. It would be wrong to vex our host right from the start." Nenni laughed, hard, when Thranduil did his best to feign a pout.

"Thranduil, what time do we begin our day tomorrow? Before, you were always gone long before I woke, and that was at dawn. I should make sure I'm at my best tomorrow, with enough rest."

"There will be no need for such hours. We only need be in the Great Hall for breakfast. I left early, before, to have the time to walk under the last of the starlight, and try to summon the willpower to endure the day. I trust, henceforth, that my days will be better ones. But you are right, a good night's rest would be wise for both of us. He stood up and held out his hands to her. "Tomorrow will mark your first steps toward taking your place in this Realm. I will support and guide you however I may, you only need ask."

She thought. "I can guess that I will be nervous, as before a singing performance. The feelings can be very difficult for me; it is another form of anxiety. On stage, once I begin to sing I enter a sort of...state of mind...in which I am able to focus only on the performance. This is not a performance. I would not complain of your assistance in remaining calm, though there is no need to render me entirely numb. I think if you monitor me, especially at first, it would not go amiss. Is my suspicion correct, that you do not actually need to touch my face to perceive my thoughts and feelings, but merely be close by me?"

"You don't miss much, do you?" he said, smiling. "You are correct. And I find that the more time I spend inside your mind, the easier it becomes for me. Your thoughts grow louder, toward me. They are harder to not notice, for lack of better words. It is the beauty, and the danger, in such a gift. Having never explored this with another, I did not know how it would unfold with time."

"It is well," she said. "Think of all the talking it will save me." She reached up to kiss him lightly, and began undressing for bed while he extinguished the lights. After he climbed under the covers with her and pulled her close, she decided to amuse herself, thinking a very specific thought as loudly as she could. She felt the rumble of his voice against her back.

"I thought you might not ask," he chuckled, as she felt his hands move over her.

They slept in a peace neither had ever hoped to know, their hearts filled with love and hope.

 **This ends Dragonwind, part one of the Adonnenniel series. Its sequel, Dragonfire, is published (currently unfinished as of 9/2106) on AO3 under my same username. The Adonnenniel series is intended to be an immense story arc that will go on as long as I'm able to keep writing them...at the very least, they will encompass the events of the War of the Ring. If you enjoyed this please consider subscribing on AO3 to keep up with new chapters. At this time I have no intention of posting Dragonfire on , due to the difficulty of importing very large works onto this site. Thanks for reading 3 -Ann**


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